


One For The Road

by sukeban777



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Debauchery, Drug Abuse, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Light Angst, Minor Character Death, OC-centric, Recreational Drug Use, The Usual Amounts of MTL toxicity at times, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21557056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sukeban777/pseuds/sukeban777
Summary: 25-year-old Venus Remeldtindrinc lives quite the life!  Raised by a young hair metal enthusiast and an increasingly negligent father, she's grown into something of a jaded rebel, but never lets her cynicism get in the way of a good time.   Her greatest enemy is her own bank account because of this.  Luckily, she seems to have a knack for earning sympathy coin from those around her, whether it be her youtube celebrity best friend or her now-incredibly successful producer of a cousin. And after years of brooding over her own delinquent behavior, things seem to be on the up and up!  Especially once she stumbles upon a longtime idol at complete random and he takes a liking to her.  It just may be the lifechanging encounter she's secretly been holding out hope for all this time.
Relationships: Pickles the Drummer/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Moving to New York

“You got a job working with WHO???” Venus emphasized her disbelief with wide eyes and a slack jaw. The pricy dish that had slipped from between her fingers was fortunately spared a miserable fate thanks to the quicker reflexes in the room. 

Abigail sighed in a fusion of relief and irritation, snatching the plate away to place it in the dishwasher. “Jesus, V. You act like you’re just now finding out celebrities are real.”

“Real is one thing. Accessible is another! This is Dethklok we’re talking about! You can’t really compare them to just anyone! They’ve surpassed normal celebrity status in every way!” The younger woman fawned, now shirking her rinsing duties. “You can’t just click the apply button and get taken into consideration. You were cherry-picked by the gods! This isn’t day to day elbow-rubbing! Think of the batshit insane industry parties you’re gonna get invited to!” The shrill squeak of excitement startled her cousin. “Abby, you guys could become friends! Or maybe more! Like a fairytale or somethin’!”

“I am fundamentally uninterested in that.” The producer scoffed in good humor. “I swear, if you put as much energy into finding work as you did dreaming up sit-com plots for my love life, you could afford your own place by now.” She retorted, motioning for her roomie to get back to work.

“First off, I have a job!”

“That you hate-”

“SECONDLY, In Manhattan?” She donned a cheesy showman’s voice. “‘You’ll be dazzled by this downtown 310 square ft. studio complete with weekly SWAT raids, crackhead rats, an unfinished wall, and a rowdy satanic cult in the basement.’” Venus rolled her olive-hued eyes, finally rinsing the remainder of the dishes. 

“Just like your apartment on campus! Except now you’re bitter being on the opposite end of the human sacrifices.” Abigail smirked. 

“…Essentially.” The girls shared a laugh. “Look, let me just be happy for you! You’ve worked so hard and me, auntie, unc, the gang; we’re all so proud! Girl, you esteemed!” Venus dried her hands and grabbed a bottle of Moscato from the fridge, pouring them both a glass. “I just hope you don’t forget about us little folks when you’re rolling in it.”

Abigail raised her cup to her cousin’s. “Perish the thought, dear.” They clinked the glasses together; Venus downing her’s entirely, while Abby settled for a moderate gulp. “It’s not like your delinquent friends would let me hear the end of it anyhow.”

“Ah-ah! OUR delinquent friends. But you right! I can almost hear Nona flipping through law books for ways to sue a personal acquaintance for holding out on her.” The laughter trailed off into shudders at what they wished was a joke.

Venus sauntered into the sleek open floor plan’s living room, filling up her chalice again. She pressed her knee into the arm of the plush, earl grey couch, leaning against the back in something of an odd half-sit while Abigail took her usual place in her favorite recliner. The duo spent many a night this way: kicking back and sharing their weeks with each other while some nonsense cable show runs quietly. Though a nice getaway at times, the quiet suburbs of Roslyn did nothing for the more feral Venus. Nonetheless, the moments were cherished.

“Speaking of, I got you a present.” Abigail noted offhandedly.

One could almost see her cousin’s ears twitch like a dog whose master had just stuck their key in the door. “What? Hell yeah! But wait, what for again?”

Abby opened a drawer on her side table and removed a slender ruby-red box, neatly tied shut with black ribbon and handed it over. “Call it an apology for not being able to make your birthday party this year.”

The reprobate stared at the box in her hands cautiously. Abigail wasn’t inherently sneaky or strict, but she was also the type to give you a crisp hundred and an $85 invoice for borrowing wine or getting smoke smell in her car, just to make a point. _“Well I don’t remember doing anything to piss her off this time.”_ Venus cautiously unraveled the silky wrappings. 

Inside laid three of the most quick-selling, exuberantly priced, life-threatening strips of paper known to man: VIP Dethklok tickets. Stunned silence soon turned to a swelling shriek of joy. “Abby!!!” Tears began welling in her heavily lined eyes. “Thank you so much! Oh my god! You’re the best! I don’t deserve this!” Venus gushed, jumping into her cousin’s arms.

“You’re absolutely right, but I love you anyway.” Abigail smiled warmly, patting the neatly wrangled curls atop Venus’ head. “Now quit crying before you have to redo your makeup. You don’t wanna be late.” 

A glance at the cable box showed Venus had mere minutes to get changed and make her way to the city if she wanted to avoid the scorn of her friends. “Oh shit. You’re right!” Immediately she tore upstairs still shouting down her thanks. And as though through some sort of mental link, an incoming video call warned her to make haste as well.

“Hey, love! I do hope you’ve redecorated your ride to merely _look_ like Abby’s house.” The thick New Yorkian brogue lectured.

“Now, Nona, you know the day I’m early for anything is the beginning of the end.” Venus joked in response, trading out her baggy sweatshirt and jeans for a mesh top, band tee, and black denim shorts. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. We go on at 10:45, right?”

“For fuck’s sake, V. We’ve been over this. 9:30, or it’s your ass!” Another woman snatched the phone away, glaring daggers into the camera. 

“I’m joking! Literally on my way out the door. Please don’t blow a fuckin’ gasket.” Venus smirked, throwing the last of her so-called necessities into a small backpack. 

Candice pushed a long section of blonde hair behind her ear. “Don’t play with me.”

“Someone has to. You’re only so pissy cuz ya need laid.” 

“You know what-”

Before the woman could go on her tirade, Nona snatched the phone away. “Ok, see you in forty! Be safe, doll!” 

Venus hurriedly descended the steps, a cigarette clenched between her teeth as she struggled to zip her coat. “Always am!”

“Good luck tonight!” Abby shouted, poking her head around the corner of the living room’s entrance. 

“Thanks, Abs! We wish you could make it!” Nona shouted back.

“Oh, Abby’s home?! Tell her I’m mad at her for stranding me with you two bitches.” Candi butted in once more.

“I have an 8 a.m. flight or you know I’d be there!”

“Boooo!” The party girls shouted in unison over the muffled heavy bass coming from the main hall of the venue.

“Now’s not the time for this, ladies. Can I go?” Venus said, practically jogging in place. 

“Yeah, let your star come make her rent money!” Abigail laughed, blowing a kiss to her cousin.

“Jokes on you. This gig pays in exposure an-” Nona noted before abruptly seeing the ‘Call Ended’ flash on her screen.

“Heh. Well, you know how the biz is! We can’t all be Dethklok.” Venus chuckled sheepishly. “Love you! Bye!” She shouted over her shoulder, as she fumbled out the front door praying Abigail wasn't close behind and ready to fight.

And so the trip to the city began. It was always too long of a ride there and far too short a trip coming back. Venus warmed up her voice, trying out everything from Utada Hikaru to Peter Murphy, her nerves creeping up as showtime neared. Even if they were ‘just a cover band’, she was surprisingly careful not to damage Supervixen’s reputation in the local scene.

The flame of her lighter sparked at the end of another cigarette, watching the dazzling lights of Manhattan brighten. The shuffling of her music library brought her to a long unheard tune. “Pfffft. Holy shit! I didn’t even realize I still had this!” Venus stared at the No Need for Antivenom album art on her iPod’s screen, quickly picking up the fast-paced ‘Water Horsey Blues’ lyrics mid-verse. 

It triggered a descent into 80s nostalgia for the rest of the trip. Nostalgia she was barely present for, but it stuck nonetheless. So much so, she could almost smell the Aquanet. Venus tapped excitedly on her steering wheel, her mind drifting back to seemingly fantastical stories she’d heard about life on the Sunset Strip. What an era it must’ve been. She only wished she and her mother could visit LA one more time…

Pulling into the lot of the club, Venus reached into her trusty knapsack, grabbing a small, nearly empty bag of white powder. “Gold dust, don’t fail me now.” A quick time check told her she could squeeze in a line, have one last smoke, and have the confidence boost hit just in time to entertain. Checking her nose for any telltale residue, she stepped out the vehicle and sauntered over to her favorite loitering spot.

A cloud of menthol passed threw her glossy lips as they curled into a smile again. 2012 had been less than kind, but things finally felt like they were coming together. What better way to end a shit year than with her dream concert? “Oh yeah! I still didn’t tell them!” The realization came to her aloud. But the excited grin soon turned to alertness as shuffling in the lot put her on edge. The area was alarmingly dark for being in the middle of the city, which made it ideal for escaping crowds and securing parking, but all the more frightening for the good citizens who liked to keep their wallets and bodies out of harm’s way. The odd amount of fog didn’t help ease her concerns.

Venus wrapped her hands around the keys in her pocket, ready to pull her pepper spray on an approaching footsteps’ source. “If you’re thinkin’ of fuckin’ with me, you better hope you kill me.” She spoke with a well-feigned cavalier tone. 

“Woah! Hey! I’m not lookin’ fer trouble. Just wonderin’ if you could spare a smoke.” The voice slowly became embodied under the sole light source in the area. 

“Uh-huh. Well I’m gonna need you to step into the light. We don’t trust like that ‘round h…ere.” The woman’s hand went limp, sending her keys dropping to the ground from their previous ready-to attack position. “W… wait. You’re-”

A set of emerald eyes met hers, along with a confident smirk. “I hope dat’s not yer best defense.” He responded smugly.

The combination of narcotics and shock sent her heart into overdrive. “Y-y-you’re Pickles! What?! Why are- but- no, that’s… you’re THE PICKLES! THE DRUMMER!! In front of me!!”

He looked himself up and down. “Well wouldja look at dat, I am!” The redhead leaned in closer, raising a hand for a stage whisper. “So be a pal and give yer favorite Dethklok member a cigarette?” 

Venus blinked herself back into the moment, scrambling to grab the pack from her purse. “I am SO SORRY! I’m just- ahh, hold on.” She pulled out the cardboard container for him and handed it over, her hands shaking intensely as she suppressed the urge to scream into the night.

“Hey thanks, dahl. Yer a lifesaver!” Pickles maintained his grin as he leaned down to grab her keys. “You should probably keep a holda these though. I don’t think you’ll get so lucky twice.” 

“Hahaha no, yeah, you’re not wrong!” Venus extended her hand only to have Pickles place a hand under her’s and set them gently in her palm. The barely audible ‘eep’ didn’t go unnoticed but he decided not to torment the poor girl. 

He reached for his lighter only to find it missing too. “Ok, yer gunna kill me but-”

“Nope! ‘S no problem at all! I actually have a spare if you just wanna keep it!” Venus noted, attempting to shove her star-struck paralysis away. She handed over one of three she’d found in her jacket pocket. “Here ya go!” She said, her voice cracking slightly.

“Do ya need to freak out? You _can_ just freak the fuck out. I’m used to it. Really.”

“Oh thank god! What are you doing in SoHo? In New York at all?! Are you on vacation? You could be on a warm island somewhere! Why here? Oh my god! I don’t believe it! I was just thinking about you and now you’re here! Well not you specifically cuz that sounds really creepy but Dethklok cuz I’m going to the end-of-the-year show out here! Ohhh jeez, why am I still talking?! I’m being such a dweeb! I’m sorry! I’ve just always loved your music since I was a kid and I just- AH! Please enjoy our humble city! Well not really mine cuz I’m not from here originally but it’s home I guess?! Ok, I’m stopping! I’m sorry. Just tell me to shut up, please!” The rambling ceased as she nervous-chuckled her way into breathlessness.

Pickles stared wide-eyed before he burst into chortles. “Ya good now?”

Venus calmed herself enough to respond. “I think so!” A lie, but at least the word vomit had passed. “I’m sorry! You must never hear the end of shit like that!”

Pickles finally managed to light his cigarette. “Yeahhh, but I’ll give ya a 3/10!” He said, shoulders still bouncing with amusement. 

“Perdón?”

“Arite, so I kinda started makin’ this scale for fans. Some of ya are these hyper-obsessed weirdos who wanna steal locks of hair er sum shit, but yer more of a Wayne Campbell, which is reasonable in my book! I’d say 3 is a healthy appreciation, though incredibly spastic.” He smirked.

Venus scoffed. “Wow, just now, I almost called you, like, super self-absorbed, but I’ll dial it back because I appreciate a good SNL reference.”

“I appreciate you appreciatin’ me. But understand, I gotta gauge dis crap fer my own safety.” Pickles heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Shit, if it weren’t fer the endless booze, drugs, and ass, I’da quit bein famous years ago.” 

“You poor thing!” She jeered.

He retorted. “You’d be amazed how quick fan interactions can go from awesome ta get-me-the-fuck-outta here.”

“A thousand pardons! Us lowly plebs can’t fathom such struggle. Sorta like how people don’t realize how big a billion is until you break down yacht and private jet prices.”

Pickles shrugged. “I wanna call ya out fer bein’ a smartass, but… yer not wrong! Shit, I’m sure when I was yer age, if you told me I’d be smokin’ in a day what I made flippin’ burgers over two months, I would… well I guess I dunno what I woulda done. Can’t remember.” 

“When you were my age, huh? How old do you think I am?” Venus squinted at him.

He put his thumb under his chin and examined her for a moment. “I’d peg ya fer maybe seventeen.”

“I’m on my way into a bar.”

“Nineteen?”

Venus held up a finger ready to explain the law, but thought it easier to just answer. “Twenty-five.”

He nodded, admittedly impressed. “Still long enough ago I wouldn’t remember.”

“Really?! How old are y-?”

“So you come here a lot?” He questioned.

She brushed over the blatant dodge, although making an earnest mental note for when she shared this encounter later. “Yeah, actually. My friend’s mom owns the place.”

He flipped the last of his cigarette into the distance. A large man in black appeared from the shadows, startling the woman. “Ahh, don’t worry. He’s wit’ me. Say hello, uh…”

“9284, sire. Hello ma’am.”

“Oh. Hi, 92…84.” She waved, flashing him a smile. 

“Yeah, don’t pay too much attention to ‘im tho. They aren’t s’posed ta talk much.” 9284 handed the drummer a large bottle of tequila. “So yer friend’s mom, huh? I’ve never been here before, but Skwisgaar tells me this crowd gets pretty down an’ dirty.” He carried on, taking a shot from the bottle.

Venus rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, she’s a lifer. Non-kink nights are few and far between. Super shocked I never heard about Skwisgaar sightings in the area though…”

“So yer into dat kinda stuff, then?” He raised an eyebrow.

A chill shot through the woman. Was this flirting? Was answering flirting back? Maybe it was a normal question. Did she want him to be flirting?! “Heh, I guess you could say that.” _“What the fuck does that mean, you idiot?! Just answer him!”_

“Hm.” Pickles examined her parka and combat boots. “THAT’S a shocker!”

Her switch slipped to 'defensive.' “I mean… I’ve only known me my whole life, but sure tell me more.” 

Pickles raised his hands, attempting to show he meant no harm. “Yer a firecracker, huh? Sheesh. I just meant ya seem too… innocent! And not in that fake way where ya call guys ‘daddy’ and wear pigtails and baby doll dresses.”

“Diversity is the spice of life. Why be predictable?” Venus snickered, leaning closer to him with a devious gleam in her eye. She lowered her tone to one far sultrier. “Or is that the kinda stuff you came here for, mister world. class. rock. star?” She chuckled, pushing against him and walking her fingers up his chest with each syllable.

He gulped, taken aback by the abrupt change in tone, but slapped his cat-like grin back on. “I’m here for all kinds of experiences, sweetheart.” 

She let out a chuckle most sinister and ran a finger under his chin, then quickly placed a tap on his nose before backing off entirely. “Then let’s find you someone a little more your speed. Consider it a favor for changin’ my life.” Venus grabbed the tequila bottle from him taking a swig, much to his protest. “That’s the other payment. Been a while since you fellas dropped an album so-”

“Wait, wait, WAIT!” He gestured wildly in his confusion. “So yer not hittin on me?”

Venus offered the bottle back. “Why would I ruin a perfectly good evening in the works by playing groupie? I’ve got my own.”

Pickles snatched the bottle back, mildly offended. “Ohh so you think yer hot shit er somethin?” He still wore his grin, but it was now laced with mild irritation.

“Hey, hey! I’m a nice enough girl. But the regulars here are a pretty tight-knit bunch. I think,” she extended her hand to him. “I could be of great assistance to you in taking down some of the hottest bombshells the big apple’s got to offer. If you’re interested. And I’ve got a feeling you are.”

He eyeballed the hand suspiciously. “Whattareya, some kinda pimp?” 

“Pimps are shit. I’m just encouraging a better planned sexual revolution here. And, let’s be honest, if Skwisgaar’s here, it could take some convincing. I mean unless you wanna share-”

He hastily grabbed her hand. “Nope I surely fuckin’ do not, show me the way, uhh- I never got yer name!” 

“It’s Venus!” She shouted before opening the door to the large cathedral-esque building. 

The industrial dance music pounded so hard you could feel it in your chest. A bubbly woman with lilac-colored space buns hyped up the crowd from behind the DJ booth, fading one track into the next. “Alright you hellions, scream for more!!” The beat built up as the patrons cheered her on. “Come on, like you mean it! I know you’re used to it!” She chuckled as the roars grew louder.

Pickles and Venus had finally made it through the swarm of intertwining bodies, the redhead wearing a few kiss marks and already gaining attention from the people nearest the black-lit barrier between shelves of various liquor and the general public. “Wow it’s fuckin’ packed in here!”

“Yeah, Nona and the Madame really know how to put a show together. And advertising is their specialty.” Venus shouted to him over the music. “You want a drink?!”

“Several, actually!” He laughed, pulling out his wallet. “But’cha know what, I like yer style, kid! Lemme treat fer the night!” 

She placed a hand to her chest as though to clutch invisible pearls. “Ok, big spender!” She laughed, sliding her debit card back into her wallet. “Yo, Damien! Hook me up with two of those deluxe long islands and a couple double shots of Patrón!”

“Lime and salt, hun?” He questioned.

“Yeah, but actually make it Don Julio, ‘steada Patrón, wouldja?” Pickles added. 

Upon receiving the drinks, Venus raised her small glass to him. “To gettin’ along just fine?”

“Ta makin’ trouble!” They toasted and downed the smooth liquid. 

The music suddenly shut off. “Ok, ladies, gents, outsiders and inbetweeners! We got news someone finally decided to crash the party! Show yourself, V, you absolute goddess!!” Nona’s voice called through the speakers.

“And I’m caught. Dammit, Damien!” The bartender blew her a kiss and sent her on her way. “Hey, Pickles I gotta do a thing! Um, it could be a bit so…” 

She turned to find a few women had already made themselves quite comfortable in his personal bubble. “Yeah I think I’m good. Go handle yer thing, er whatever.” 

As she approached, the sea of kinksters split to allow her to pass; a bright spotlight upon her the whole way.

“Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.” Candi had already taken her place on stage. 

Venus was handed a microphone by the Madame as she reached the front of the room, opting to be lifted onto it rather than take the stairs. “The devil? I’m as pure as can be!” She snickered facing the audience again. “You guys make me look so cool, holy shit.”

Nona chuckled. “You know, V, my love, my darling best friend, my dear… I think this place has just spoiled you rotten. We tolerate her, give her our time and our love. And she just plays with our emotions. Shows up late for shows. Drinks up all our rent money by flashing those puppy dog eyes our way. Feigning dominance all the while. Somebody really oughta teach her a lesson if ya ask me.” The mass of people jokingly cheered.

“Feigning?!” Venus gasped.

“Ok girls, let’s remember why you’re here. Time is money!” Nona’s mother warned. 

“Yes, ma’am!” They promptly got back to work.

Madame Rei sauntered into the crowd. “Now, without further ado, I present you derelicts with my first wonder of the evening, New York’s own: Supervixen!!” The club erupted with applause. “Featuring my dear friend Rosie Razor!”

“YES! Give it up for Rosie! We are so honored to be playing with such a boss ass, stone-cold bitch!” Candi put her hands together in prayer form. 

“And we can’t thank you enough for subbing for us!” Nona chimed in.

Rosie humbly bowed. “Hey, I’ll never turn my back on my sisters in rock n roll arms! Careful how you throw around that ‘S’ word though.” The low-hanging pun play still got a decent laugh.

Pickles, still maintaining the perfect-level profile, was pleasantly surprised to see an old friend still doing it for the music. And to realize just why he was getting the temporary blow off. He sat at the bar, downing beer after beer as the club’s attendees cheered and the opening notes of the girls’ set played. “Ok, ok. Let’s get this party started, yeah?” Venus smirked as the slow, bass-heavy intro oozed sensuality. It sounded familiar, though not inherently up his aisle, taste-wise. 

Venus, still wearing her knee-length parka, placed the microphone onto her appointed stand, her lips parting to purr out the eerie declarations of love, a la Shirley Manson. 

_“I would die for you. I would die for you. I’ve been dyin’ just to feel you by my side… to know that you’re mine. I will cry for you. I will cry for you. I will wash away your pain with all my tears… and drown your fear.”_

The giggly, bashful, if not still somewhat crass air she had to her just minutes ago had dispersed entirely just like when she cornered him outside. Pickles looked on, decidedly impressed with the woman’s stage presence. The deep sultry notes lured more viewers into the standing room as she slowly untied the belt of her coat and began slipping out of the cover. Candi and Nona’s voices meshed with Venus’ quite well. It was evident they’d been doing this for quite some time in another performer’s eyes.

As Nona’s passive tapping became a dirtier, bass pedal-heavy pattern, Venus dropped the coat entirely, showing off her more-revealing attire. The smug wink she gave the audience earned some extra hoots and whistles as she swayed to and fro. 

Venus’ ever-wandering internal monologue reminded her of how pathetic this testimony was. Doing anything for someone? Obsessing over them with no regard for your own self-worth? Embarrassing at best. But in the most specifically explicit context, she knew it could send even her into a tizzy. There was something exhilarating in relinquishing control. And something powerful in watching it make those who called themselves so strong squirm where they stood.

By the midpoint of the tune, Venus was ostentatiously crawling on all fours; throwing herself at this semi-imaginary subject of the lyrics, writhing on the dais as she crooned. Pickles and the bar regulars watched on almost entranced by the movements. The subtle longing, in combination with the not-so-subtle gesticulation, was a sight to behold.

Of course, this was but a minuscule display of her know-hows. Just as soon as people shook off the haunting magnetism of one tune, Venus was back on her feet and replenishing the audience’s energy. “Whoo!” She did a small shimmy. “I had to get that outta my system, ya know?” 

The opening notes to the next song came forth from Madame Rei’s keyboard. “Now… let’s kick this Halloween bash off for real, you fucking sinners!!” The cool enticement quickly switched to outright mania. And the rest of the set carried on as such. 

. . .

“Thanks for havin’ us and happy Halloween!” She purred, ready to dive headfirst into the rest of her half-planned antics. The cluster of kinksters howled with satisfaction at the band’s display. 

“And make sure you thank Miss Rosie for doing us this wicked cool solid!” Nona, ever the glory hound, took a series of bows with the formerly famous guitarist before she was pulled from the stage so the next act could begin.

“Your adoring public awaits, your majesty.” Candi said with a heavy eye roll as she looped her arm around the smaller woman’s. She shifted her gaze to their less than punctual lead. “And I’m glad you found it in your heart to make your first gig in four months.” 

“Fashionably late used to be the cool kids’ way?” Venus sheepishly responded, dabbing at her forehead with a hand towel. It then struck her all over again. “Wait!” She brought her posse to a halt with her shrill call. “I have SO much news!”

“Excuses, I’m sure.” Nona jeered.

Venus crossed her arms, answering in a mocking tone. “No, I don’t feel any particular need to explain myself to you two.” 

“Says the only of us who needs the money.” Candice tossed blonde extensions over her shoulder cattily.

“Fine. I’ll go star spotting. You two stay here and be petty with the rest of the white-collars.” Venus shrugged, turning to walk away.

Before she could take two steps, both of their hands were firmly planted on each of her shoulders. “Come again?” They demanded in chorus.

Venus led the pair to the main bar. But the redhead was nowhere to be found. Her friends furrowed their brows. “Aaaand he’s gone!” Venus cursed under her breath.

Nona sighed. “Not your best lie. I know playing with Candice’s emotions is fun and all but....”

“Candi, sweetheart, I swear to you! There’re a couple guys here you REALLY wanna meet! Let’s go check the rest of the bar!” She pleaded, dragging the girls through the festivities. There were plenty of other rooms. Pickles had probably just wandered off. Drunks had that tendency after all.

Boy, was this building more massive than Venus remembered! But she had a point to prove. After wandering through the peculiarly long halls of the private room space, they reached a line of women heading downstairs. “Is someone doing a demo tonight?” Candi said, head tilted in uncertainty. 

“I mean Trixie, but not til midnight… hm!” Nona cosigned.

Venus resumed yanking the pair along, knowing not even the club’s security would attempt to stop them. “Targets acquired then!” 

This particular area of basement space was full of large fuzzy, highly-cushioned chairs surrounding a fairly low-sitting stage. A group of roughly twenty women sat eagerly awaiting… something out of the girls’ view due to the intentional positioning of the discretion curtain as darkwave filled the space between lewd sounds. 

Venus turned back, thanking the large man on one side of the basement entrance only to be stopped on the opposing side by a hooded figure. “We’re at capacity at the moment.”

“Capacity? What in the hell- I feel I’m a little more qualified to make that call than you are, uh…” Nona stepped forward, examining the masked man. “…whoever the fuck you are. Havin some weird executioner kink doesn’t put you in charge of jack shit. The Madame only speaks green.” 

Another identically dressed man leaned over and whispered something to the sizeable roadblock. “Our master has paid plenty to use this place. Now if you’re waiting to see him, you’ll have to do just that. WAIT.”

“Maybe so, but we have free reign here. So, what say we all stay in our respective lanes and settle down?” Candi stepped forward but was forced back by the men standing their ground. 

“I’m afraid this is more our ‘lane’ than yours, lady.” A third bouncer stepped forward, pointing into the tall woman’s face.

“Mmkay, you got about two seconds before that finger needs put on ice.” She threatened.

“Uh, ya’ll…” Venus tried to intervene. 

“Try me!” 

“Ok, de fucks ams all of dis noise?! I ams tryings to bes a goods host heres!” 

Venus’ hunch was at least half correct. Through the gap between the two guards exposed a lanky blonde man, re-zipping his pants, and shirt still half raised. Apparently, a pair of the club’s more skilled exhibitionists entertained the small group with a battle to see who could…launch his missile, first.

Nona placed her fingertips to her lips in shock. “Oh shit, you fellas aren’t just rowdy slaves. You’re-”

Venus smacked herself in the forehead. “Yeah! I was trying to surprise you but… Let’s just say this is partially my bad!” She chuckled, earning displeased squints from her friends. 

“V, I swear to god!” Nona grabbed her by the front of the shirt. “Was Skwisgaar fucking Skwigelf getting a blowjob not 20 feet away from us?”

“I feel like there’s no way I could get this wrong, but you’re gonna treat me like I did either way.”

“’WAS’ woulds be the keywords now because I losts my conskentrations!” The towering form griped, motioning his security team aside with a long sigh and an overdramatized pinching of the bridge of his nose. “Looks you ams all welcomes to joins in, but it ams prettys rudes to the others gorls to nots… waits your… turns.” He finally lowered his head from its haughty, nigh-constant up-tilted position only to find himself eyeballing long and defined deep-brown legs, his drawn-out stare tracing all the way up to the equally enthralled gaze of one Candice Reed. “Well, hellos.” The lecher’s condescending tenor turned sultry immediately.

“Hello to you.” Candi matched his leer. “See somethin’ you like?”

“Sire what do you wish for us to do with-”

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes, beyond weary with speaking to the klokateers already. “Just- ugh- just keeps watch, okays! Dese three amns’t hurtings anyones.” He welcomed the trio into the room, scattered annoyed glares being cast their way. “I neededs some time to refuels anyways.” 

“Oh I’m sure you must be just exhausted! The women of this city- this club in particular? They’ll make a veteran cry!” Nona giddily butted in, shooting a wink and flirty wave to one of the topless women wandering onto their side of the veil. “Getcha a drink?”

“Ifs you woulds be so kinds.” The Swede said, turning on the charm. “Actuallys, a rounds on me for alls the beautifuls womens in heres!” The statement erupted cheers even from the more bitter participants. “Let’s some mores in while we’re ats it!”

Nona winced, shooting an apologetic look over to the lone Bartender staffing the basement, Parker, for what she’d just gotten them into. Candice and Venus snickered at their expense. But their joking was cut short by star-struck chills as a pale arm draping around each of them eased them towards the seating area, a now much larger entourage of women following.

Skwisgaar was handed over a bottle of his favorite vodka as he claimed a seat, several patrons clamoring to be near him and place their free drink orders. He donned that tempting smile, running those skilled and lightly calloused fingers down Candi and Venus’ arms as he took his place on the barstool. “Sos, what ams I in fors for lettings you crash my little gets-togethers?”

Venus’ cheeks heated up, reddening slightly even beneath her copper foundation. “I- uhh- you know, I’m not at liberty to discuss such things. But CANDI here?! Oh man. She’s one of your biggest fans in every way! Tell ‘em, girl!”

“Yes, queen, speak your truth!” Nona joked from behind the bar.

Candice would pay them back a thousand times over for putting her on the spot, but for now, a potentially once in a lifetime opportunity to get up close and personal with her favorite guitarist and long-time celebrity crush. Sure, he had the reputation of fooling around with anyone and everyone who’d spare the time, but that person had yet to be her and she was more than happy to fix such an egregious error of fate. 

“Yeah, I’ve been dying for Dethklok since I started hanging with these headbanging hussies.” She motioned to her internally shrieking companions. “You never fail to impress. In a number of ways.”

The guitarist poured a shot. “Ohs? Names three.”

“Let’s see. God-like composition, finger work that I can only vividly imagine putting to other uses…” Candi put on a sly grin, taking the glass from him and downing the pricey Stoli. “And knowing Russian vodka is just inherently better than the stuff your people put out.” She sat the glass back in front of him. “But I’m sure you’ve heard all that before.”

“And yets it sounds sos much betters comings froms you.” He chuckled. “Tells me more abouts the vivid thoughts.”

Venus, who’d jumped behind the bar amidst the chaos and chatter, pouring a few shots to hurry along the task list in that room, was now ready to escape before she was roped into something sinister. Though she did hate to intrude on the blondes’ bonding. “Hey, before we let all you party animals get back to it, Mr. Skwigelf-”

“’Misters,’ huh? Ams you that types, ah…” He raised a suggestive brow.

“Venus. And right? Doesn’t seem like her at all, does it?” Candi joked.

Venus snapped from between clenched teeth. “You shut your whore mouth, Candice!” Turning back to Skwisgaar, she sweetened her tone. “I was just wondering if you’d seen your plus one around?”

“Ah, so you ams a Pickle fan! A shames really.”

“NOPE! Not why I’m asking! He just- I-”

“You don’ts haves to explains yourselfs to mes! Just because you cans wins most, doesn’ts means you can wins dem alls.” Skwisgaar shrugged. “Buts I will bes honest withs you, a lots of his lady friends ends up comings back to mes anyhows sos… I’ll be waitings.”

“Waaah, Candi tell him that’s not what I mean!” Venus whined, stomping her foot in desperation.

“Sorry, can’t hear ya. Busy shutting my whore mouth.” She let her friend stew for a moment under the man’s all but violating gaze, studying her nails before leaning back over to him with a playful tap on his shoulder. “Alright, enough. Be nice to her. She’s been reborn.” The brazen seductress teased.

Nona was quick to join in after abandoning Parker. “It’s true. Our little ‘V’ may as well wear one on her chest at this point. What’s it been? Two years? Consider your imaginary cherry un-popped, princess.” 

“I dislike the both of you very much right now.” Venus covered her face and cast her eyes to the floor. “And I’ll have you all know, that you’re not allowed to shame me just cuz I’m taking a break! It’s for my own good!”

Skwisgaar sat, mouth agape. “Two years!?” He offered her a handshake. “Honestlys, I ams impressed withs your fortitudes!” Venus cautiously took hold of the willowy hand: a terrible mistake on her part, she realized as he pulled her between his legs and leaned millimeters away from her ear. “Jag slår vad om att du är underbart trång.”

Poor Venus thanked every god she could list that she lacked the knowledge to fully translate whatever filth was spilling from those plump lips, knees almost buckling from the sensation of the warm air on her ear alone. Her pride kicked her internally as her eyes rolled back listening to him speak. “Jag skulle vilja tränga in mig i dig.” She quickly snapped herself out of it, a sense of dread kicking in as she felt a delicate stripe being traced up the back of her leg, just below the hem of her skirt. “I don’t really…”

“Ah-ah!” Nona pulled Venus to safety. “As cute as she is to make squirm, we respect boundaries here.” She said, sporting a playful tone but clearly making a stern point as she placed a tiny smooch atop Venus’ hand. “So be a sweetie and tell her where the drummer’s run off to, huh?”

Skwisgaar put his hand across his heart. “My sincerests apologies. I ams not one to treads where I ams not inviteds.” Those sky-blue gateways seemed sincere enough. “I seents him in the rooms with all the purples lights befores I cames down heres.”

Venus perked up immediately. “T-Thanks! And it’s no big by the way. If… well if it were any other point in my life, I would never turn down a night with the great Skwisgaar Skwigelf. I’m very flattered. And whatever you said sounded like a billion bucks. You…” She shivered, still very caught in the moment. “You are exactly as powerful as you appear to be.”

“I cans translate ifs you’ds li-”

“NO THANKS! I’m gonna leave now because um. Well, to get really drunk. It was an honor meeting you!” Venus rushed off with a quick wave, a thoroughly amused Nona tailing her as Candi stayed behind to romance her dream man.

The girls wandered to the black-lit room. It was mostly and shockingly empty, just 5 or 6 others, one could assume, were trying to take a break from the massive crowd in the main rooms. A quick look around revealed Skiwsgaar to be spot on: there sat their inspiration, making faces of childlike wonder at sparkling projections on the wall. 

Nona clasped both hands over her mouth this time. “It’s really him!”

“I told you! How is it you didn’t know about this anyways?” Venus gave her friend a light push.

“You know mom! Always about surprises. I’m so mad at her! I know she watched my vlog about the Brutal New Year mini-tour!”

“Oh shit, dude! Speaking of-”

Pickles seemed to overhear any mention of work, spinning on his stool to see Nona and Venus chatting in the doorway. “Oh hey! It’s you again!” He waved them over.

“Yeah! Why’d ya run off, high-roller?” Venus managed to bring back her cool, calm, and collected alter ego from earlier. 

Pickles wore a woozy smile, looking substantially more content with life than any promotional image of the band would exhibit. The best friends exchanged tickled glances. “Umm, some chick showed me this room, asked me what I liked more between molly and acid. I told ‘er that’s like pickin’ yer favorite kid, so she put somethin’ her mouth, used’er tongue to shove it inta mine. And so… cool lights an’ shit.”

“Well you’ve had an eventful night!” Nona snorted. “Better make sure you still got your wallet.”

The redhead’s eyes widened. “Ohhh, dood! Sick tatts! Wait, Venus- Oh yeah, I meant ta tell ya earlier, dat’s such a cool fuckin’ name!” She made a heart shape with her hands, being all too familiar with the overbearing affection that comes with a good roll. “Who’s yer friend with the awesome ink?”

“Firstly, thank you! I’ve been all over the world collectin’ these babies.” The short-statured girl stated proudly. “Secondly, I’m Wynona Ishida, the nosiest and noisiest bitch on the world wide web.” The pint-sized fireball offered him a handshake. 

He grabbed a hold of the slender hand only to be startled by her firm grip. “Oh, so you mean business, huh?” He set his sights on Venus again. “This one of those girls ya mentioned?”

Nona and Venus burst into riotous laughter, using each other for balance. “FAR from it, unfortunately for you.” The taller girl spit out once she was able to catch her breath. “Smalls here handles more box than a warehouse worker.”

He put both hands into the air gleefully. “Me too! High five, dood!”

Venus hopped behind the bar, greedily snatching a bottle of 151 from underneath the counter. “Gee, I can’t believe I’m about to get hammered with TWO celebrities.”

“Correction! Yer about to get hammered AND love drunk!” He pulled out a small baggy of orange-tinted powder. “You gais are alright! I feel super welcome but not suffocated, and fer dat, I offer treats instead o’ tricks.”

“No way!” Nona grabbed him by both hands.

“Way!” He snickered. “Oh wait, wut’s the line from- from dat one movie? Uhh, tall goofy dude and short weird lookin dude. Wit da sweater vests? I think they’re step-brothers?”

“Step-Brothers?” Venus choked back a laugh as she poured the shots. 

“YEAH! Uh, what’s the line tho…” He pondered, pulling unmeasured pinches from the small plastic bag and sprinkling them into the miniature glasses.

“Mmmm! Oh, you probably mean- I know! DID WE JUST BECOME BEST FRIENDS?!” The dark-haired girl raised her glass.

Without missing a beat, Nona and Pickles had joined in on the toast with a unified “YUP!”

Throwing back the drinks, they all slammed the cups onto the counter with that deep-breathy sound that could only come from playing hardball with warm brown liquor. “I hate it every time and I still do it!” Venus gagged.

“’Ey, no pukin’ til I get my harem!” Pickles warned, pouring another shot for himself. 

“Never fear, the shenanigators are here!” Nona hollered into the rafters.

The night was still young. Why not make it a whole adventure?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear lord, please forgive my google translate Swedish. I am but a humble, uneducated Skwis stan and I know not what I do. I solemnly swear that it won't happen again!  
> But big ups to anyone who knew better and suffered through it anyway. lmao
> 
> More importantly, welcome to this fic that's been like, a goddamn year in the making. I've begun rewriting the 17 chapters of mental snowballing I had originally churned out and thanks to some much-needed encouragement on my prequel, I'm finally ready to start posting! I'll warn you, it's gonna be kind of a long one! The original plan was for this to span from immediately before Writersklok until the very end of Galaktikon 2 and I've yet to change that, so brace yourselves! 
> 
> Also, don't be alarmed if summaries switch between, ya know, actual summaries, Venus' diary entries, and ominous song lyrics because I'm feeling very experimental these days (and I wouldn't know consistency if it were repeatedly punching me in the throat.) :^)
> 
> But that's all for now! Love anyone who's taking the time to read this dearly!  
> \- Suke xoxo


	2. Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You'd better be takin care of yourself, missy."
> 
> "What do you mean?"
> 
> "You think I don't know reefer when I smell it?"
> 
> "Ok, fair. I'm sorry. But I didn't pay- um, I mean I didn't smoke any. The house is stocked full of groceries for when you come home!"
> 
> "Sure, kid. If you're anything like Gordie, that won't last long."
> 
> "Speaking of Aunt Liz, she told me an interesting tale on the phone today."
> 
> "Hopefully not about how to score good pot."
> 
> "No, about you going to an SNB party and not telling me!??"
> 
> "...Ok, confession time... me and Pickles... watched Terminator together once."
> 
> "*gasp* SCANDALOUS!"
> 
> "Yep, that's why my marriage fell apart."
> 
> "I mean probably. Your husband IS an asshole."
> 
> "Language, V."
> 
> "My bad... But this is good! We can laugh about it now cuz we BOTH know dad sucks!"
> 
> "That's one way to see it."
> 
> "Anyway, point of the namedrop: Guess who spotted a certain sci-fi fan when she was checking out Roni's CD collection!"
> 
> "No way! ...Ohhh, his poor hair!"
> 
> "I know right? But holy crap is he a good drummer!"
> 
> It occurred to me to ask about her, but why kill my own vibe?

There was something to be said about the feeling of waking up to the sun glaring down on your face and 42-degree chills tickling your cheeks. Venus whined at the cold air, curling up tighter into her blanket and pulling it over her head to block out the rays. _“Why the fuck is it so bright anyways?”_ She questioned herself. A quick peek over the duvet told her she was outside. “Oh, that makes sense…” She shot up after a moment, noticing things were out of the ordinary, the hasty movement jolting her stomach in all the wrong ways. She frantically looked at her surroundings, luckily spotting a small waste bin to undo what she could of last night’s damage. 

A mess of brown locks and blankets rested on the ground beside the terrace couch, faintly shifting during the noisy ordeal. Venus heaved up at least one hint of where’d she been, all too familiar with the taste of Joe’s Pizza. Shuddering with the combination of cold and her violent abhorrence of vomiting, Venus spat the last bit of phlegm from her throat. Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced herself to try process any aspect of how she’d wound up there. “Ugh. Fuck me…” No luck with willpower alone. She placed the blanket she’d been using atop the still dead to the world body on the wood floor, supposing looking around wouldn’t hurt; other than the getting up and doing it part.

Who’d even gotten a hotel room? Where exactly in Manhattan was she? She dragged herself into the room, happy someone had the sense to turn the heat on. Six costumed women, one of which she knew from Taboo, laid dangling from various pieces of furniture. She nearly tripped over another pair of tired bodies on the penthouse’s stairs. Looking closer she realized one of them was Dethklok’s bassist. “Holy shit…” Venus whispered. Right! She’d met Skwisgaar and Pickles last night too! “HOLY SHIT!” She covered her mouth moving down the steps more quickly to see what other familiar faces were around.

Unconscious partygoes were scattered about everywhere. It was always troubling to black out for long periods, but knowing what her favorite metal band got into according to the tabloids, she had to wonder just how much trouble she made. Although she wasn’t too worried. After all, this was their finish line. It was better than a jail cell. 

A deep, muffled groan came from another section of the room. Venus would even call it growl-like. She prayed someone hadn’t gone full-Hangover and stolen a tiger. But after peeking around the corner she realized it was the wearied sigh of the band’s vocalist. There was a familiarity to the almost whiny air of his post-drinking routine; much like her own haggard mornings as of late. The stages of grief seemed to hit him all at once. 

She wandered into the bedroom area of the suite, careful not to step on any of the women littering the floor. “Uh… hey.” 

Nathan’s half-lidded eyes blinked at her in a mixture of confusion and perhaps, irritation? “Uh… hey.”

“So… I don’t know where I am. And you’re Nathan Explosion.” She couldn’t properly coo over his stardom right now, but was sure to emphasize how odd a turn of events this was. 

The bulky man stared in silence for an uncomfortable span of time before closing and reopening his eyes fully. “Ok… I thought I was still asleep.” Nathan grumbled further. “This is… a hotel. In New York… That’s all I got.”

A rustling came from beside him in the king-sized bed. “What the hell?” 

Venus hurriedly averted her gaze. “Oh no, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting something!” 

“Eh, no big.” Nathan and the woman beneath the covers answered together, but the telling “hun” ending the higher pitched voice’s sentence confounded Venus further. Messy purple tresses rose from beneath the comforter. “This is The Time. That much, I know.”

“NONA?!” Venus shrieked, causing all three of them to suffer. 

“Hey! I love you, but I will hurt you if you don’t pipe down.” She finally sat up, the blanket the covered her slumping into her lap. The small woman glared at the late morning sunrays pouring into the room, only shielded by a thin white curtain. “Not to be on some princess shit first thing in the morning, but I am already at my limit.”

“Ummm-”

“I’m realizing that I am naked now, thank you, V.” She pulled the blanket back over her, switching her line of sight to the man next to her. “So… the infamous Nathan Explosion.” She peeked under the covers. “I’m connectin’ some dots here.”

“What? Oh, yeah, that happened. A couple times, if I…recall correctly. God, my head is fucking killing me.” Nathan nodded, reluctantly grabbing a water. Not missing a beat, she snatched the bottle from him absentmindedly and chugged half. “HEY!”

“Oh, relax! We shared a lot more than a little spit.” Nona ignored the scowl beating down on the side of her face. 

“Wynona! I’m sorry, Mr. Explosion, sir. Uh… she’s just-”

“I’m just dehydrated. All this shit’s comped anyway.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “And my liver will thank you to cut me some slack.”

Nathan stared in disbelief. “Your liver? I literally have to trade mine out every few months!”

“And some of us only get the one, so have some sympathy!” Nona snipped.

Venus left the two of them to bicker, unable to mediate. She wasn’t in any hurry to sign up to be one of the most powerful men on the planet’s enemy. And the urge to purge more toxins was making its presence known again. She made a beeline for the bathroom as a few women made haste for the exit due to the shouting match; grabbing her coat and an abandoned, half-empty vodka bottle on the way. 

Falling to her knees in the presence of the toilet, the woman vowed, for the umpteenth time, to never party that hard again. The formerly pristine manicure snagged as she patted around her jacket pockets on the ground next to her in search of her cell phone. “Ugh. And I broke a goddamn nail?” The groan came from between retches. 

“Jeez, could ya puke a little quieter? Some of us wanna put that shit off til later.” 

Venus looked over to see sneakered feet hanging over the side of the tub. “To be fair-” She heaved up nothing but bile and took a second to recompose herself. “It looks like someone had the same idea.” She climbed to standing position to wash her hands, as well as rinse the mess in question from the basin. “At least some of us are kind enough to shoot for easy clean up.”

“Yeah well if you can see straight enough ta aim, are ya really partyin to yer full ability?” The dangling legs spoke again. 

She let out a semi-disgusted sigh. “Is that a confession?” She approached the tub. Pickles lay next to an identical puddle to the one in the sink, eyes still shut through his smartass remarks. “Uh-huh. Didja at least get any before… all this?”

Pickles waved his hand, half-heartedly shooing her. “I’m not dignifyin’ that wit’ a response. Fuck off and lemme sleep.”

“Tragic.” Venus checked her missed alerts, swapping check-in texts with Candice and letting Abigail know she was indeed aware of when trash day fell that week. “I suppose it’s my fault. My wingman skills are rusty at best.”

“Whatsat?”

“I’m taking the blame. I mean Nathan snagged an entire lesbian. What about you? Jim, Jack, and Johnnie? Obviously, I had a poor pitch on your behalf.”

“I don’t need any help, if ya hadn’t noticed! I’ll have you know I got more puss-” His bragging was cut short by a misstep: using the tub’s nozzle for leverage to sit up. “NYEHH! FUCK! That shit’s cold!” He rushed to turn it off, traces of the vomit he’d somehow managed not to lie in now splashing onto his t-shirt. Venus snorted at the display, as she offered to pull him out. “Oh you think yer real fuckin funny, don’tcha?”

“I didn’t say nothin!” She pulled the travel toothbrush from her coat pocket and took a swig from the vodka bottle. Swishing the disinfectant about for a moment and spitting the harsh room temperature liquor into the sink before brushing, she shook her head, distinctly trying her hardest not to laugh. 

“Butcha thought it, smartass.” Pickles whined as he flicked the sordid mixture of liquids from his fingertips. He wrung the side of his shirt out.

Venus ceased her attempts at making her eyeliner look presentable, reaching to slap his hands away from his shirt. “Jesus, dude! Don’t! Here just…” She handed him a towel to get the excess water off his arm and face, as well as the floor. “Stop what you’re doin’. Take your shirt off.”

“Now seems like a weird time, but if yer into it-”

“SHUT THE FU- Just- gimme the shirt!” She held out a hand, amused but impatient. “I’m gonna wash it. Did you get any on your pants?” 

He smirked, pulling the sleeveless tee off and handing it over. “Yer not helpin yer case.”

Blowing a raspberry, she snatched the soiled top. “Oh, yeah! My ingenious plan to join the Dethklok dick-riders all comes to fruition as I clean up the drummer’s puke. Hashtag, goals!”

“Hey, most chicks would kill ta fuck me!”

The chipper retort came easily. “Well, just think of what I’ll save on bullets!”

Pickles crossed his arms. “No, I didn’t get any on my pants, _mom_.” He huffed. “You always this crabby first thing in the mornin’? Or issat a special privlege for yer so-called ‘friends’ ta deal wit?”

She rinsed the fabric, rubbing the tainted areas with the hotel soap bar. “This is hardly bullying, dude. And IF we’re friends, it’s honestly my job to let you know; this is a bad look.” She smirked back at him with her reflection. “Pretty bitches have standards to uphold. Have some pride.”

He pointed an accusing index finger. “So you admit I’m pretty then?”

Venus rolled her eyes, but concurred. “We should all hope to be so fortunate in our 40s.”

He gasped. “Who told you!?”

“YOU just did.”

Pickles eye twitched as he grumbled something under his breath before dropping the matter. “So what am I gunna do with a soakin’ wet t-shirt in the middle o’ fall in New York? Pneumonia ain’t a good look either.”

Wringing the shirt out, she checked the tag before hanging the top on the towel rack to dry. “I gotcha covered.” Venus swiftly removed the Rob Zombie tee she’d thrown on last night. “Might be a little sweaty, but sweat’s better than nothin, right?” 

He found himself stunned by the view of cleavage through mesh, oddly enough. It wasn’t like he was any stranger to curvy anatomy. Maybe he was just surprised at how well she hid them? “Wait! I don’t want ya ta hafta… uh… I mean you can’t just walk around like…” He tried to avert his gaze as he spoke.

“Oh, no big! You might swim in it a little cuz I prefer XL tees but-”

“Yeah no wonder’.” He chimed in, perhaps louder than he meant to.

Venus followed his eyeline and placed a hand across her chest, appalled. The twins were… prominent, but he didn’t have to point it out. “Don’t be weird!”

“Hey! Woah! I’m- I wouldn’t- I mean I would but- uhhh, I was lookin at- …dat’s a cool necklace! Where’d ya get it?” Pickles threw on her shirt and rolled up the sleeves. 

“Ugh.” Venus eyeballed him skeptically but decided to show him the black crystal. “Yeah, it’s neat. I got it off my mom. It’s one of those little stash bottle pendants.”

The mention of a ‘stash’ seemed to set off a happy reminder in his mind. He dumped a pile of his own hangover remedy on the counter and set up a few lines. “Yer mom supports yer coke habit? Must be nice. Or really sad. Not sure which.” He then offered her a small section of the substance at the mention.

“Yeah right! She was so removed from that kinda stuff, I don’t even think she knew that’s what it’s for. Total girl scout!” She let out a small titter before deciding to follow his lead. “But I always sorta admired that about her. So, I opted to use it for somethin’ a little more… wholesome… for her memory’s sake. Nothin’ but evaporated perfume in here.”

Pickles winced. “Oh, she’s… well shit, dood, my bad fer bringin it up.”

“Eh, it’ll be ten years in March, so the wounds aren’t fresh or nothin. Happens to the best of us, right?” The woman threw on her coat and grabbed her pack of cigarettes. “But sappy shit is more of a late night deal.” She offered him a smoke. “So what else ya got?”

They sat outside recounting the evening’s events. Pickles wasn’t typically one to black out so he filled in quite a few blanks. According to a forgotten video in Pickles’ inbox, Candi, Skwisgaar, and a hoard of other fans ran off after the second bar and had their own wild exploits. There were also a few blurry reminders in their galleries; Murderface making an ass of himself on a strip club stage, Nathan and Nona arm wrestling some bikers, Toki showing up and throwing a tantrum for not being invited out, but quickly joining in on the antics and leading them to a karaoke bar. All innocent enough, if not rowdy.

“Ok, yeah, it’s comin back to me.” Venus giggled, putting out her cigarette on the terrace wall. “I’m amazed I made it to the end of the night, honestly. After karaoke, I thought I was a goner.”

“Oh shit! Are you tellin’ me you don’t remember the best part?” Pickles flicked the lit cigarette off the building, leaning closer to show her another video. There it was; loud, belligerent, sloppy Venus pointing a finger at some asshole twice her size and ranting about personal space and respecting women. The man was equally shitfaced, and woefully unprepared for her to be so scrappy. “And heeeere it comes! BOOM! Ya just tackle ‘im! Funniest shit I ever seen!” The redhead guffawed.

“Damn, that’s probably how I broke my nail too.” She sighed, shaking her head. He prompted her to keep watching with a knowing look. _“And that’s for making me fuck up my shit! This was an $80 fucking manicure, you pig!”_ She covered her face, shaking her head even faster. 

Pickles slid the dethphone back into his pocket. “Well **I** thought it was funny. What’s the big deal? We gotcha outta there before the cops came.”

Venus snorted a little, turning to look at him from beneath the shield of her hand. “It’s embarrassing! I tried to leave my temper back at school.”

“Fair enough. But for the record, it was pretty badass. Respect, dood.” He motioned for a fist bump.

She sheepishly returned the gesture, a bit flushed at what felt like the first genuine compliment she’d gotten from the man. “Oh…Thanks. Feels pretty good comin from the man who broke Rikki Kixx’s face.”

“Oh ya heard about that huh?” He gritted his teeth in his own mild shame. 

“Heard about it? I was praying for it. What a shit replacement. If he would’ve so much as started to sing ‘Kill You’, I would’ve hunted him down myself.” She griped. 

“Oh? You a big Snakes N Barrels fan?” He raised a brow, curiosity piqued. It wasn’t too often he encountered those who cared about that era.

Venus chuckled, lighting up another cigarette. “Like anyone with half a brain. Even if you guys only put out one album that mattered.”

He cracked a smile. “Thanks…” It’d been a while since anyone gave him props on his hair metal days. And even those who did seemed to want something out of it, or it was all comments from his bandmates on the incident at their first reunion. “Uh… do ya wanna- I dunno, get breakfast er… somethin?”

“Oh Pickle! Venus! I thoughts I heard you twos!” A voice called down from the upper balcony of the penthouse suite. “You guys wants to order rooms service?! I’ms starving!”

Pickles rubbed the bridge of his nose, the barely-hidden exasperation heavy in his response. “Uhhh, Yeah, Toki.”

Venus recalled the person sleeping on the ground next to her. “Ohhh.” She quietly mused.

Toki was downstairs in no time, bubbly and seemingly unfazed by the previous night. “Good mornings! I didn’t thinks anybody woulds bes awake!” He beamed. “I really wants a waffle. Ooh, with fresh fruits. What ams yous in the mood for?”

“Eh, I could go fer some French toast. But seriously dood, lower yer volume. We’re right here.” Pickles lit the crinkled remainder of a joint from his pocket.

“Whats about yous, Venus?” 

She looked at him, now revisiting the shock that these metal gods were giving her the time of day. “Oh I- um. I’m always a sucker for a big plate of hash browns.” Venus decided. 

“Goods choice!” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. I’m glads you can eats. I heard you throws up this mornings.” 

The woman chuckled nervously. “Yeah… Sorry, that was gross of me.”

“Oh no problems! You gets used to it dealings with bandmates likes mine.” He giggled.

“Oh, you are the **last** person I wanna hear dat from. Venus you ever smelled regurgitated pickled fish and ice cream before?” Pickles ribbed back, taking the joint to the head solo. 

Toki shrugged. “Sugars-free ice cream.”

“How would dat make it better?”

“Yeahs, well, it’s better thans the smell of olds ranch!”

Venus looked on, holding in laughter. Toki was most notable in the media for, well, not being there. Deemed right between beloved and berated, at ‘forgettable at best.’ But he seemed to be a very kind person in comparison to the rest of Dethklok, even in the public eye. She felt safe to assume they’d made quick friends last night, judging by how he approached her and Pickles in the same manner.

“Hey uh, thanks for not letting me freeze to death, by the way.” She interrupted the sibling-like razzing.

Toki nodded excitedly. “Ofs course! You looksed comfortable sos I didn’ts want to disturbs you, but I gots you a blankets. Thens, I slepts in fronts of the couch in case you sleepswalk so you would trips overs me and wakes me up.”

“Oh wow. Then, super thank you! I don’t but I appreciate the consideration a whole lot!” What a precious soul. She was floored. 

“Yeah, dat’s Toki for ya.” Pickles rolled his eyes. “Now when da rest of us catch a cold, we know who ta blame.”

The terrace door slid open once more. “V, I’m starving. Let’s get outta these fellas’ hair, yeah?” Nona suggested, trying to remain privy to morning after etiquette.

“You’re right. We shouldn’t stick around. You guys were nice enough to let us crash here. We don’t wanna intrude more than we need to.” Venus added.

“Nah, you don’t gotta leave yet. If yer thinkin Nathan’s gonna be grumpy all day, don’t worry about it.” Pickles reassured them. 

“CLOSE THE FUCKIN’ DOOR! IT’S COLD!” The vocalist called from inside. Nona irately motioned to the man in question with efforts to prove her point.

“WE’RE ORDERIN’ ROOM SERVICE, DOOD!” The drummer informed his friend. “Just give ‘em some recovery time and some bacon and he comes around.”

“Yeahs! Don’ts worry about Nathans. He ams just not a mornings person.” 

The men ended up summoning a lavish feast, much to the girls’ discomfort. Many of the other women had cleared out with no mention of breakfast, but Toki was so insistent that they stay, it felt a bit like an obligation. Not that they were opposed, just… perplexed.

“So you fellas do stuff like this pretty often? Obviously, I follow what I can, but it’s hard to pinpoint where you’re gonna pop up next.” Nona eventually pointed out.

Nathan, now much more lively (for him anyway), answered with another question. “Oh yeah I’d been meaning to ask. Aren’t you that chick who does all those videos on us?”

“Yeah! Baku- bakoohat…” Toki stumbled through the foreign term.

“Bakuhatsubabe. Yeah, that’s her.” One of the few women who stayed behind acknowledged.

William crossed his arms, still grumpy about being woken up. “Well, I’ve never heard of you. What’sch that even schupposed to mean?”

“Murderface, you’ve never heard of anything.” Pickles noted.

“Die for Dethklok has kinds of gones downhill, but the new cools thing is Youtubes. Nonas runs the most populars Dethklok-themed vlogs.” Toki said matter of factly.

“Scho what, we’re juscht schupposched to drop everything and kissch your assch for a good party review?”

Nona sighed. “I can’t blame you for being skeptical, but I assure you my intentions are pure. You guys are too important to me to sell you out for money.”

“I’m sure they’ve heard that before.” The woman chimed in again. 

“You got a problem, dear? I don’t believe we’ve met.” Piercing brown eyes and a smile shot down to the opposite end of the table.

The woman placed clasped hands in front of her. “It doesn’t matter who I am. I just know your type. Desperate for attention and willing to step on anybody’s toes to get to the top.” 

“Ohohoho, a show to go with breakfast?” Pickles snorted.

Toki looked on, a bit disheartened. “You don’ts think that’s a little harsh?”

Nona turned to Venus. “Didja hear that, V? It doesn’t matter who she is.”

“That’s what I heard, girl.”

“So if you know your place, how about you quiet down over there? The grown-ups are talkin.” Nona sneered, cocking her head to the side. 

“Bitch, I will destroy you! I could buy your entire life!” The blonde shouted.

“Yeah! Rip each other’sch titsch off!” Murderface instigated.

“Well that’s quite the predicament. Your **husband** probably could. But…” The pint-sized influencer winced. “Could YOU buy a new place on Carnegie Hill after having to explain to the Senator how all the pubes in your teeth are red and blonde and he’s a brunet, or would that little blunder set you back a few tax brackets?” 

The woman jumped to her feet, poorly containing her outrage. “Yeah- well- I’d like to see you prove it!” 

“Yeah, no she’s kinda gotcha there. This is definitely you and dat’s definitely my dick.” Pickles nodded as he looked at the image on Nona’s phone. “Guess I did get something last night!” He directed that ‘take that’ at Venus. “Nice angle work there, girlie.”

“Why thank you! Didja wanna see, V?” Nona turned to her friend. 

“No thanks! I believe you.” Venus shied away from the photo. “Why do you even have that?”

“What happens on the party bus sometimes creeps off.” 

“She’s right.” Nathan shrugged.

By this point the older woman was a bundle of frazzled nerves. “You know what I don’t have to stand for this! I’m leaving! Fuck you, whore!” She stormed out of the room.

“Least I can keep the change!” She called to her before the door slammed.

The guys shared amused looks. 

“Ouch. That’s gotta hurt!” The lead singer snickered.

“Ahh, marriage. The most sacred institution.” Pickles rolled his eyes before going back to his breakfast.

Muderface cackled. “I’ll give credit where credit’sch due. That wasch quality schit!”

“Blackmail? I would never.” Nona placed a hand to her chest in faux-shock.

“Nobody schaid ‘blackmail.’”

Toki sighed. “I guess that ams how the cookies crumble. She didn’ts haves to be rude.”

“Thank you, Toki.” Nona flashed him a genuine smile. “That said, with all your permission of course, I’d like to post some pictures and video clips to my vlog and fanpage. Nothin vulgar, but you know. Selfies, maybe some of those karaoke snippets?” She pleaded covertly.

All eyes turned to Nathan. “Uhhh… sure why not?”

“Great! Thank you! You’re the best!” 

Venus shot Nona a distrustful look. Of course, she’d already done it.

A knock came at the door suddenly. Before anyone could bother to get out of their chairs, a suited man entered, a few hooded servants in tow. “Good afternoon, all of you.” He approached, eying his surroundings.

“Oh jeezch. Party’sch over, everybody! The narc’sch here!” William exclaimed, irritated.

“He ams like McGruff’s the crimes dog.” Toki joked, but soon switched to being thoughtful. “That’s a goods Halloweens costumes idea for yous, Offdensens!”

“I’m sure.” The bespectacled manager spoke. “You do recall you have a press conference this afternoon?” 

“Gahhhhd, it’s always work, work, work with you.” Pickles griped. “Can we wake up first?”

Venus and Nona quietly observed the scene of what could only be read as spoiled brats backtalking their father. 

“In all fairness, I ah, reminded you last night before you left. And left you all voicemails this morning. I also called when I was on my way.”

“So what we’re supposed to remember stuff while we’re drunk and answer our phones? That’s just unrealistic.” Nathan protested.

“Hm. Well I’m telling you again now. We leave in twenty minutes. I had the klokateers bring along clean clothes and toothbrushes, Skwisgaar is already waiting out front in the limo. Please, ah, make an effort to hurry, would you?” 

The four men sighed, mumbling complaints as they split up to go change. 

An olive gaze laid itself on the women still sitting at the table. “Do you ladies need more time to collect yourselves?” They looked around to find the last few groupies had all cleared out at this point, silently and with no effort to even say goodbye to the band. “I could arrange you a ride home, have autographs sent, give you the phone number to our legal department’s hotline if need be…”

“No we’re… we’re good. Sorry. We were just a little out of it. Hangovers, you know?” Venus chuckled.

“Yes, they are a hassle, aren’t they?” He nodded. “Perhaps then, it’s not the best time to present you with this non-disclosure agreement for ah, future reference? I noticed one of you may have taken some liberty with posting some, ahh, we’ll call it content, from last night. And it’s imperative to me, as the boys’ manager that as much Dethklok footage as possible be properly screened and vetted before it’s presented to the public.” The words felt like boulders being stacked on Nona’s chest.

“For FUTURE reference? As in from here on out my videos will be subject to these rules? And there’ll be no sudden seizure of my channel as a whole? I know this is probably just the illusion of choice, but I’d appreciate being allowed to keep my livelihood.” She stood and offered him a handshake. “I’m rich, but you guys are **wealthy**. And I don’t care much for hardball.”

“Of course.” He took the offer. “So you’ll sign, then?”

“I’d like to take it with me, read it over.” She grinned. “The law is nothing to be flippant about, after all.”

Charles hid a grimace. “Very well. I’ll give you the mailing address. And I do hope to hear back soon, Miss Ishida.”

This was definitely a threat. Venus sheepishly watched the exchange. “Uh, for the record, mister…”

“Offdensen.”

Venus nodded. “Mr. Offdensen. We don’t wanna make your job any harder than it already is.”

“Well I appreciate that. Get back to me with those forms soon. And try to clear out of the room in the next ten minutes. The cleaning staff is ah, tired of waiting.” And in no time, he and the band were gone.

Venus shuddered as the door shut. “You gotta take that stuff down! What if their stupid dick pics get you sued?!”

“Oh V, you precious thing. You think I don’t vet everything myself? I’m a rascal, but I’m not stupid. That’s why I’m still around and Paris Hilton had to start fresh! I’ve heard of people coming up missing for **disagreeing** with Dethklok too loudly. And remember that governor down in Florida? No, I’m not challenging that legal team. I have other plans in mind.” She smirked.

“Ugh, please leave me out of it. I feel like I just got choked out and he didn’t even touch me.” 

Nona sighed dreamily. “I know right? It’s pretty hot. Mr. O, take my gold star! I don’t want it anymore!” She theatrically threw her arm out toward the empty space where he stood moments ago.

Venus snorted. “You can only peel off one sticker so many times.” 

“I’m into power. Whaddaya want?” 

The duo opted to take an afternoon stroll to Candice’s, grabbing snacks and vowing to pick Venus’s car up later. 

Slouched in the building’s elevator, Nona lamented the choice to walk for 35 minutes. “Ok nevermind all that shit I was talkin, I’m definitely skippin’ the gym for a coupla days. Feels like Gina put on her brass knuckles and wore me like a glove! Straight girls, blink once if you need help.” 

“It was an abnormal experience, I promise you!” Venus emphasized. “But you’ll be ok, and you learned something. Anyways stop reminding me of the D-word. I’m stressed.”

“Nobody told ya not to partake. It doesn’t even count as groupie shit if you don’t set out on the explicit task. Have you learned nothing?”

“Morally grey is a risky shade for me. I wanna make sure I actually do better, ya know? Setting myself up for disappointment is hardly productive.” She let out a heavy exhale. 

Nona put a hand on her shoulder. “Honey, if ya would’ve looked at that picture of Pickles, you’d see there was nothin’ to be disappointed by, ok?” She grinned with a lewd gleam in her eye.

“Shut up! I never said anything about him!” The taller woman brushed her friend’s hand away, hiding her dead giveaway of an expression with her sudden interest in a certain text message. 

“Not shaming you! Anyhoo, It’s smart to avoid catching feelings-”

“Amongst other things.”

“BUT we still have needs! It ain’t evil, it’s symbiosis. Also,” she yanked the cell phone out of Venus’ hand. “If this is all some elaborate excuse to hit up the ex-con cuz you’re stuck in nostalgia mode, I highly advise against it.” A more concerned look showed through her smile. 

Venus swiped her phone back, stepping off the lift once they reached the 19th floor. “Well that’s not what it is because I still haven’t texted him back, so suck on that, smart ass!” She said as Nona playfully nudged her side.

Rounding the corner to Candi’s or Nona’s condo felt so much more natural than pulling into Abby’s driveway. Obviously, Venus loved her cousin, but there was a warmth in stopping by her friends’ places that no longer came from stepping into Remeldtindrinc mini-manor. Candice making fresh smoothies and bringing out her fuzziest blankets for a lazy movie Sunday while Nona rolled a joint and rambled about her next big move: that felt like home now. 

“I think that’s both of our problem though, babe. We get all goo-goo eyes over these guys cuz they make good music and forget who we are for a sec.” The pair knocked on the door. “SHAVE AND A HAIRCUT! OPEN UP!” Nona laughed before concluding her run-on sentence. “And, I mean yeah, I was back to my usual mean ass self this morning, but it’s not like we’ll ever see ‘em again so no big if he’s pissed off! Once in a lifetime events are fun that way.”

“Jesus, I’m so dumb! Actually, I keep forgetting to tell you. You’re gonna laugh, swear!” The door opened with Candi’s greeting as Venus snickered to herself. “Abby got us VIP tickets to the end of the year show!”

“WHAT???!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something, something, establishing character dynamics, very little plot, and semi-vague exposition. Issa real slow burn, baby!! And i made too many OCs! But hey, you like it or you don't. :^) I promise thig will get juicier soon! (And that i'll never say 'juicier' again!)  
> \- Suke <3


	3. Make Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I hadn't made me, I'd've fallen apart by now.  
> I won't let 'em make me. It's more than I can allow.  
> So when I make me, I won't be papier-mâché.  
> And if I fuck me, I'll fuck me in my own way...

“Well, this is some operation you have going on here. You realize you were supposed to be in the studio an hour ago?” Abigail stared down her disheveled surroundings as she imposed the critique on the band. Never had she seen such filth, such apathy. And one would be wise to not get her started on the misogyny. It didn’t get much better with the pitiable excuse of a schedule Nathan laid out for her. She was used to it, by all means, but it didn’t make fixing the hedonists in her field any less tiresome of a task. And it was particularly horrifying knowing that capitalist society’s wellbeing sat on these five slackers’ shoulders.

Trying to reason with them wasn’t an option. However, Abigail had already devised a plan to get them motivated, inspired, and perhaps most importantly, away from their enabling surroundings for a bit. At the very least they’d be out of her hair long enough to see if anything they’d done so far was worth bothering with or if she had a whole return to the drawing board ahead of her. And to be fair, calling it a vacation wasn’t a ‘lie’, per se. They could use a little creative boost. Given what she’d learned from her cousin over the years, as well as upon her hiring, Dethklok had fallen a long way from their long-held pedestal. ‘Falling down, getting hurt?’ She’d seen this burnout a million times over.

They just needed a little push.

. . . . . . .

“CHARLES YOU WEREN’T THERE! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE!” A certain pouting lead singer recalled. “The LAST fucking thing I want to do is work with someone who would put me through that fucked up ordeal and call it a ‘vacation!’ Now we’re going right back into the studio with her?!”

Murderface concurred wholeheartedly. “YEAH! We almost had to schuck some dude’sch cock! Do you underschtand what that could have done to our brand? To our mindsch?!! I need time to processch crap like thisch!”

“Dis ams psychoslogickals tortures!” Skwisgaar made his adamant contribution.

“Yeah, it’s psychological torture!” Pickles motioned to Charles in a critical fashion. “Ya know, yer not just a robot, yer like… like-”

Toki interrupted his thought. “A robot what ams programmed bys a serials killer!”

“Actually yeah, dat’s better den whatever I was about ta say.”

“I know it’s been stressful having so much to do all at once, but that’s precisely why you have to stay on task. Keep your heads in the game.” Charles insisted. It was becoming a bi-weekly pep talk since this economy-boosting fair rigmarole began, only intensified by the growing list of equal parts task and complaints. “The faster you get focused, the faster the record’s done, the sooner you never have to see her again if that’s what you really want. It’s also ah, worth noting that we wouldn’t be in this mess had the record not been destroyed. You’d all be off gallivanting around Disney by now if it were ah, up to me.”

“Yeah, funny how dat works.” Pickles muttered.

Nathan bestowed his bandmate with an abrupt scowl but was quick to change the topic. “Ok, fine. We’ll do the last couple bullshit additional shows and then?”

“Cornickleson wants our full concentration on recording, so we’re going to be utilizing the new and improved dethsub for a few months.”

“Shittys way to kicks off the new years.” Skwisgaar twiddled away at his guitar, per the usual.

“My previous statement still st-”

“It wont’s be so bads! We ams at least inspireds now!” Toki reassured his fellow guitarist.

“Yeah! It’sch a piecshe of cake! We’re professchionalsch, after all! Juscht, boom, one take and we’re the fuck outta there! We probably won’t even need three monthsch.”

“Yeah it ams a walks in the parks when alls you do is sleeps and eats all da foods.” The blonde derided his bandmates’ positivity. “’Oh, looks! So much funs makings Skwisgaar does all my works for mes!’ Pft!”

“He’s got a point. The only reason it takes as long as it does to get anything fuckin done is cuz we gotta do every-fuckin-thing twice.” Pickles noted.

“Maybe we should just go down there by ourselves, you know. Without the dead weight.” Nathan also chimed in.

“Sounds goods to mes!”

“Ok, let’s-”

“Be my fuckin’ guescht! My kneesch could usche a break from carrying thisch band!”

“Fellas can we-”

“Name ONE time, Murderface! Name one TRACK that you even managed to RECORD all the way through! Please tell us how much you’ve helped out by jacking off next to the ladies locker room while the rest of us earn a paycheck!” Nathan leaned forward, on the verge of losing his patience.

“Well, not going all ‘here’sch Johnny’ on the maschter was pretty helpful of me, if I do schay scho myschelf.” The bassist grumbled with a self-righteous sneer.

“ **Guys!** Please just-” Offdensen cherry-picked his words. Tensions were at an all-time high and he didn’t need any more issues on his mountain of a plate. “Let’s take this all one step at a time and it’ll be over before you know it. After tomorrow’s fair, you get another week off so take this time to unwind, relax, talk through some things if you need to. I’ll ah, make a note of it to sit down with Abigail. What do you say?” He pleaded. They begrudgingly accepted.

The six men traveled mostly in silence from the Tampa press conference to their landing strip, ready to board their jet, venture back to Mordhaus, and isolate themselves from each other for as long as humanly possible. Pickles, in particular, was all but burnt out on social interaction, and fighting off a series of hostile feelings that he’d rather not address. He drifted off into an Ambien-induced snooze as they made the 11-hour trip back home.

. . . . . . .

Venus scrolled through the Facefriends local events section, preoccupied with mumbling Rapper’s Delight and conjuring ways to fill the gap between now and the Dethklok show. The chiming of her 7am alarm would be upon her in a number of hours she dared not count. Though it wasn’t as if laying down in silence would’ve been much aid anyhow. Abigail’s now frequent absences had sparked a childlike fear in her. That bump in the night was probably just a car door closing, or the house settling. But what if it was a burglary next door she could’ve prevented with a little vigilance? Oh well. Maybe tossing the music feed over to her sound system would ease the guilt… if it weren’t for that 1% chance this would be the time her local serial killer popped in for a visit.

This all goes without mentioning the odd dreams she’d been having lately. The abstract imagery plagued the back of her mind; she’d look out over a cliff’s edge, apocalyptic levels of destruction staring back at her. This strange contraption burned in the center of a field and the cries of the injured pained her deeply, as though she had failed them personally. It differed in bits and pieces, but they always ended the same: she’d turn around to leave and be met with a pair of glowing white eyes, hollow and menacing. The panic jolted her out of her slumber more efficiently than any alarm clock could. So, late nights and early mornings it was!

She paused her playlist, her focus shifting from the surveillance footage feed on her screen, to the bedroom door, back to the blinking cursor on her phone. _“Not to be weird but, I really appreciate you doin me that solid. I’m just worried you’ll get yourself caught again-”_

“Aw come on, that’s not fair. He isn’t automatically dealing just cuz he has connections. How do I phrase this? …Just say ‘thank you’ and ‘glad you’re doin’ ok’ and go!” She lectured herself. None of this was helping ease her big-empty-house syndrome. The neon numbers across the room were all too happy to remind her that she should really be making an attempt to sleep instead of rambling to the walls about her ex. It was time for a more concentrated effort.

Grabbing a small satchel from her side table, as well as her fluffiest blanket, an extra pillow, and her phone charger, the woman dragged herself downstairs. She threw the amenities on her favorite lazing couch, slipped into her parka and a pair of ‘those fur-lined monstrosities’ her aunt had sent over as a gift some odd years ago, and stepped out onto the main-level patio. Alas, the grinder inside her bag was empty, adding an extra step to this already tiresome task. 

Venus pulled out her phone to look at the time again only to realize she was twenty seconds into a phone call. “Oh shit! I’m so sorry I-” Upon closer inspection, her nightmare was actualized. She raised the phone to her ear, stiffly awaiting a response.

“What’s this? The world’s most awkward booty call?” The voice was like a warm bed after months on the cold, hard ground. 

“Haaa, awkward is right, but booty call in the most literal sense only.” She spoke through obviously-gritted teeth; the kicking of herself practically literal.

“And here I was thinkin’ there’s only two things on anyone’s mind at 2am.” Trent chuckled. “Bummer.”

Venus crushed the intoxicating flowers between her fingers, utilizing her headphones to free up her other hand. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m just a spaz who can’t carry more than two things at a time.” Her jittery giggles assured him.

The silken words came after a small yawn from the other end of the line. “Glad to know you haven’t changed much.”

“Gee thanks!” She rolled her eyes.

“Anytime, darlin.” The man paused for a moment. Hoping she’d say more? Less? Should she just offer him a ‘thanks for the coke’ and bail? She let herself get carried away with apprehension as she ground up the buds further, unknowingly humming to herself. “Smoking? On a work night? For shame.”

Venus scoffed dramatically. “Huh? What are you, spying on me?”

You could always hear the smirk in his voice. “Maybe. Or maybe I just know you wouldn’t be thinkin’ about Magic Carpet Ride if you weren’t about to take one.” 

“Aren’t we presumptuous?”

“Depends. You smokin’?”

“A lucky guess!” She fussed. But it put a grin on her face. “Hey. Um… I am sorry. About acting all brand new. Not texting you back and all that. I guess I have some oddly specific biases to work out.”

“To be fair, associating with criminals is a way different venue for me than it is for you. The statistics are sickening when you do the research.” Trent rolled his eyes, donning a comically self-aggrandizing tone.

Venus cackled. “Aw man, tell me about it! You white hippie mules walked so I could run. God bless!” 

His small, tired, airy laugh had been missed. “See, this isn’t so hard. Our rapport is as good as ever.” It was beyond annoying how easily he could just shove bits of wistfulness in her face. Even the subtle flick of a windproof lighter could take her back to college with enough time to herself.

“Yeah our rapport didn’t suffer, but I had some shit to work out.” Her tone hardened in response to the memories as she took a hit from the pipe, exhaling her next words. “How was I supposed to know I wasn’t cut out for watching you entertain every little upstart that wanted to see what guitar calluses felt like from the inside?” 

“I gotta be honest; I’m only likin’ this new you more.” He attempted to take the conversation back to its happy beginnings. “Fun aside, I get it. I was an asshole. Even local stardom can really rot your perspective.”

Venus nodded to herself, a nice comeback springing to mind. “Well, I’ve had my fair share of REAL celebs and it’s equally regrettable. We can always commiserate.” She took another hit, this time transitioning into a laugh and then a cough, breaking her ‘chill’ façade. 

“You good, big timer?” Trent teased.

“Shut up! Where was I?”

“Fame is a helluva drug?” He cut her some slack.

“No shit. And we’re a buncha junkies.” Venus noted. “I _guess_ what I’m saying is I’m not hung up on college shit now. So, I don’t need you out here running a smear campaign on me either.”

“Why would I? You were a good girl.”

“Exactly!”

“I know.”

“I _AM_ a good girl.”

“Correct. And a good friend.”

“You should know that.”

“Not arguing.” He chuckled again.

Venus fiddled with the cord of her headphones, letting herself relax and thinking yesterday’s her silly over putting this off for so long. Trent wasn’t always empathetic, but he was self-aware and had a sweet streak beneath all that prickly cynicism that she’d seen many times over. Nona’s little underhanded jabs now read as petty fearmongering. But Trent’s presence wasn’t a threat to their friendship. It never had been. There was nothing wrong with catching up with an old friend, flame or not. The fact of the matter was, they were older and wiser now. 

“Well, you should probably get some sleep, Stonerella. It’s way after midnight if ya hadn’t noticed. But I’ll happily catch up with you later. Over drinks at Gina’s? Friday around 9?”

She yawned, donning a much more placid tone; one Trent could read like a book even now. “Yeah. I’d like that. You get some sleep too, mister.” 

“You’re the boss.” He hung up and was quickly summoned back to the main room by his gang of eavesdropping miscreants.

“Oooh, she’s the boss huh? Better not tell AJ.” Tommy ribbed. 

Vince rolled his eyes, cutting up lines for the group. “Their both a pain in the ass if ya ask me.”

The much younger Alex chimed in. “Glad he didn’t. Ya’ll are trippin. Venus is way more chill.”

“Hush up, junior and get back to work or we’re cuttin’ you off.” Vince teased in return.

“You hush up or I’m cutting YOU off.” Trent scoffed. “How much do you owe already, you fuckin fiend?” 

“The perks of daylighting on Wall Street baby. I can always pay Frankie back. But how are you gonna explain to Lady bitches-and-does-all-my-stash-A-Lot that you’re out here taking after-midnight calls from the sweet poon of yesteryear, good buddy?”

Trent hoovered up his portion. “Well the fact that one knows I don’t owe her anything makes her the superior choice, huh, smartass?” He joked pushing his pointer and index finger against Vince’s temple and pretending to fire.

. . . . . . .

The arrival at the enormous castle was the usual business; Nathan claiming he was off to brainstorm (a.k.a. 8 more solid hours of sleep), Toki tending to his model planes and daydreaming, Murderface scrolling medieval RP message boards and picking fights over historical inaccuracies, Skwisgaar addressing his mile-long list of ladies-in-waiting, and Pickles starting whatever binge fancied him that day, all while Charles made sure all was going according to schedule behind the scenes. That had been the entirety of November.

Usually in times like these, someone would get restless after a few hours and summon festivities, but lately no one seemed to be in the mood. The night in Manhattan was the last time any of their gatherings had been noteworthy. And there had been this weird underlying something prodding at Pickles ever since… He shrugged it off. Nothing a few mid-morning bong rips couldn’t fix.

Clouds of thick, familiar-scented smoke rolled through the massive chamber as the drummer basked in his thoughts, sprawled across his bed and taking shots from a fifth of vodka. He scrolled through the blurry photos on his dethphone. Stopping on a selfie of him, Nona, and Venus he chuckled to himself. Hell if he remembered when they took it. Or knew why he kept it. It _was_ pretty good picture for a trio of shitfaced club hoppers, he supposed. 

A few taps on Pickles’ door shook him from his ruminating. “Yeah??”

The door slowly glided open as the baby of the band spoke. “Hey Pickle. Can I hangs out with you? Everyone ams being dicks.” He was always quickest to forgive his biggest-brother figure for any transgressions.

The redhead gave a tired, knowing exhale. “Fuck. I know dat look. Dat’s a get stoned and eat all yer snacks’ kinda look.” Still, that stupid pout he’d put up with for the past decade or so always won him over. “But I guess more hands make less work.”

It wasn’t long before the rhythm guitarist’s eyes were red and glossed over as they both lightly vented about the current state of their unit. “I thinks we just haves to looks on the brights sides, you knows? We can makes an even betters album!”

“I just- It’s the principal of da matter, dood. We shouldn’t hafta and that’s why everybody’s so fuckin’ pissed off! We’re back at square effin’ one, all of us constantly gettin’ bitched at fer somethin’ HE did, and we... Ugh. Nevermind. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. We gotta do it either fuckin’ way, so no point in cryin’ over spilled milk. Whatever…”

After a long pause, Toki spoke up again. “Pickle… sorry for nots always beings the best bandsmate.”

“No, Toki, look…” The older man never really mastered dealing with these ‘emotional outbursts’ from his coworker. He tapped the charred leaves into an empty beer bottle. “Nobody’s blamin’ **you** , ok? No point in gettin’ all touchy feely about it.” He stifled a cough.

“If you say sos...” Toki stared off into the high rafters of the room, trying his best not to dwell on the friction in the haus. He didn’t need to depend on the rest of them to have a good time. He had… Well he could make more friends! He already had a plan in the works! The brush-off prompted him to change the subject. “Hey, remembers Halloweens?”

“Arite den, new topic I guess- Uh, yeah, it wasn’t half bad!”

“Thems goils really knows how to partys! Can’ts believe they kepts up with yous for so longs!”

Pickles stretched, trading out his vodka for a six pack he’d had delivered shortly before Toki’s arrival. “Takes me back ta the old days kinda.”

“How sos?”

“I mean… it was more… regular? Like one’a the parties we woulda thrown back that old shithole apartment.” The older man chuckled. “’Course in those days, the chicks tryin’ ta get in good wit us weren’t so…”

“Cutes?!” Toki inquired.

“‘Rude,’ is what I was gunna say, Toki. But ta each their own I guess.”

“Rudes for nots humpings you?” The guitarist snickered to himself. 

Pickles began. “Listen here, ya lil’ shit-”

Toki interjected his next thought before Pickles could retort. “Anysways, I’ve been thinkins: I’ds be okays with hangins out with thems agains.”

“Ain’t the worst idea ya’ve ever had. I _am_ getting pretty tired’a seein the same four ugly mugs around here every day.” 

“Tells me abouts it. I’m gonna text Nonas!” 

“Dood, ya know she’s gay rite? Dat thing with Nate was a total fluke.” 

The younger musician shrugged. “I’m not tryins to sleeps with her! I just wants… huh, that **ams** strange.”

Pickles packed another bowl spouting off more baked musings. “Eh, I mean, I’d fuck ‘er. Just ain’t allowed. Seems fair ta me-” 

“Rights, but you woulds still hangs out with hers?”

“Yeah I don’t see why not.” He paused. “I dunno what that means either but now I feel weird! Thanks a lot, Toki!” 

“Maybes, they ams… just cool peoples?” He pondered.

“OH YEAH!” The drummer exhaled his epiphany. “Obviously they’re just cooler den average fans so we’re not used to it! But use yer head.” His words took a turn for the sinister. “Groupies are groupies. That dominatrix chick uhh, Candi, I think? She fucked Skwisgaar, and Nona hooked up with Nate’n against her own set’a standards. It’s gotta be a clout thing even if they aren’t tryin ta- ta…” He grasped at straws for the best terminology. “Uh, steal our seed, like some of these other crazy bitches.”

Toki assumed the thinker pose. “If that ams the case then whats about Venus? She didn’ts makes a move on anybodys. She just looksed happy to bes includeds.”

“I thought she was comin onta me, but…” Pickles trekked through his hazy memories. “She’s just shy. Which is also weird fer a groupie... Who shows up to screw the band then gets offended when you check out their tits?!” 

Toki swiveled around on his knees to face the bed. “I dunnos. I thoughts she seemeds kinda… sads.”

“I mean I guess she did say her mom died and they were close, er somethin like dat.” He took another swig of his beer. “Maybe she ain’t over it. Fuck if I know. I ain’t no therapist.”

“Reallys? That woulds suck if you likeds your moms. Maybe if I sees her again, I’ll do somethings to cheers her up!” Toki’s eyes sparkled at the bright new possibilities of it all.

Pickles scoffed. “I mean she said it’s been like ten years. What are ya gonna do, resurrect her? The chick’s got baggage. Ya can’t really fix her type.”

“Wowie! Sos you two gots pretty close alreadys!”

“And what the fuck, pray tell, makes ya think dat?”

“Well, I don’ts know the last time you mentioneds a goil whats you could really remembers anythings about. Evens their name usuallys. So, I thoughts maybes you two hads a moments or somethins.” The innocent cogitations spewed forth. Unfortunately for him, he’d hit a nerve.

Pickles’ lips curled into something akin to a disgusted sneer. He wasn’t even sure why it’d trigger such an irate response. “Yeah, well yer overthinkin it. So, next time ya get an idea, do us all a favor and quit while yer ahead.”

The brunet blew a few loose strands out of his face, not commenting on the feeble response. Admittedly, this whole chat had been a blow to his pride. Toki wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted out of his bandmate, but he knew he wasn’t getting it. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence and exaggerated sighs- in hopes that they could pick up somewhere else, perhaps- he took a wobbly stance. “Pickle…”

“Dat’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“…Thanks for the pots. I’ll sees ya laters.”

. . . . . . .

A muffled buzzing came from the couch cushions. Venus groaned in abhorrence as the morning sun glared in through the titanic living room windows. She fished around inside the blanket, trying to figure out who dared bother her before her alarm. “Whaaaat?” She griped, not even fully opening her eyes to answer.

“Funny way to say you’re sorry for the delay! I was calling to make sure you were alright, but I don’t know why I try.” A reprimanding voice came through the line. 

Venus shot up. “Wait what?” She looked over at the cable box. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry Joan! I was caught up because-”

“Save it. Performance reviews are today, so see me whenever you deem it convenient to grace us with your presence.” The harsh words shifted Venus into gear. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She cursed at the call’s end, rushing upstairs to retrieve her uniform and re-inflate her mass of curls. “Didn’t even have a good lie ready. What the fuck, phone?” The scathing blame came forth. Scooping a line onto the screen of the ‘at-fault’ device in question, she saw a list of text alerts.

“Good morning? What is all this?” She swiped away the residue, gumming it before dashing to brush her teeth. A series of messages and calls from Nona:

“Ok so I’m minding my own business and this happens?!” A screenshot of a separate one-sided text chain followed.  
“It’s Toki Wartooth! What the fuck is happening?!”

“Wake UP! This is important! Shouldn’t you be on your way to work??”

“He asked how I’m doing! I deadass have no idea how to respond! Is this a prank?!”

“VENUS ISABELLA, I’M PUBLICLY RENOUNCING YOUR FRIENDSHIP IN 20 MINUTES! HELP!”

Without missing a beat, another call came through. “I am up! I am witnessing! What did you do?!” Venus addressed Nona before she could start her tirade.

“I PANICKED! HE ASKED ABOUT THE NEXT SHOW HERE!”

“So tell him we’re going. I don’t understand.” Candice had also been dragged into the call. “Am I the crazy one here, V?”

“How did he even get your number??!” Venus interrogated.

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHAT I SAID?!”

The eldest pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ya’ll, I understand the hype but I’m literally buried in paperwork right now. Can’t you just send the cliff notes later?”

Venus sped down the stairs and out to her car nearly tripping on the front porch as Nona announced her response. “Ok so I asked him if we could visit Mordhaus.”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT ANYONE SAID!”

You could practically hear Candi rub her temples as she spoke. “Jesus fucking Christ, Wynona…”

“Wait. Wait. Listen... He said yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long-ass delay! but I'm back with inspiration, much like the fellas in this chapter. I just hope this marathon of a fic will be my Andromeda, or better yet, my Become the Storm ;)
> 
> Uhh, I actually churned out 2 1/2 chapters this time around, so the next will be up with way less hiatus, but this is the only one I've proofread for now so I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> xoxo  
> Suke <3


	4. Pick Up The Phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come on Cherry, Cherry you're still very young  
> And we've only just started having fun.  
> I'm picking fruit and I choose you. You're so cool!  
> No need to save yourself for someone else to come..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one kind of cuts off at a mid-point because I wasn't feeling a 6k word ramble-fest just yet. Anyways, I like to keep my 5 readers comin' back for more ;) lmao  
> Chapter 4.5, as it would be, is in the works as we speak.

The day began on a high note. Venus fluttered makeup-crusted eyes open, hungover and ready to lie to her boss with theatrical commitment. There was a strict vacation policy for the busy month in her hellhole of a company, but no one can control when sickness strikes. And it was New Year’s Eve in New York City. Surely, people had better things to do than worry about package deliveries for the most part. She wouldn’t be missed. And if she was… Well, that sounded like a ‘them problem.’

The master plan was to laze in bed, secretly restless, but quite cozy until roughly 10 am, at which point she’d drag herself onto her cousin’s bedroom terrace, have a morning cigarette and try to adjust to the less than pleasant winter temperatures. She’d hop in the shower knowing Candice would be off at noon and Nona would be spam-calling by 1. Lastly, she’d hoover up some powdered motivation and zoom over into the city so they could carpool to the aptly named Barren Island, NY by 3. Even more so since the world’s biggest death metal band had steamrolled over any and all habitats there to make way for the gargantuan carnival set-up. And finally, get a chance to re-introduce herself to her favorite band and possibly even visit their home expectation-free! What more could a girl want?

The answer was ‘nothing’ and the scheme went swimmingly.

While this show was severely discounted, passes to meet the band remained at unholy prices. Nona had overheard some poor saps behind them bragging about withdrawing their entire savings to get their filthy fanatic hands on VIP tickets. “What a life…” The trio thought to themselves condescendingly. 

The backstage setup at a Dethklok concert was somehow just as exuberant as one would expect and yet, there was this air of… well, Candi put it best. “Sketchy haunted walkthrough.” The deep violet lighting made it murky and eerie and the bar area was peculiarly tavern-esque; As though a gang of hooligans slurring a pirate shanty may spawn any moment. Hoards of fellow metalheads were practically dogpiled as close to a set of heavy maroon curtains as they could be without incurring the wrath of the klokateers on security detail. 

While the women propped themselves in a corner near the least crowded section of the bar, another fan approached them. “Yo.” He gave them all a two-finger salute with his greeting. “You girls look a little lost.”

The three of them gave each other a perceptive and weary glance. A look that sought and almost universally received affirmation from those who _knew_. They too often joked: ‘for those about to experience a microaggression, we salute you.’ No matter how it was stated, the notion was incredibly common amongst femmes of the metal scene; double the side-eye if you were one of the many who’d almost left the fanbase over the ‘eracism’ scandal. But they’d play along for now.

“Oh? No, _we_ just respect celebrities’ space.” Venus said, emphasizing the ‘we.’

“You must not be a newbie either, given your lack of hounddoggin’.” Nona nodded in faux-approval. 

The man scoffed. “Of course. I’ve followed these guys for a whole tour once. Saw Murderface smoke a dude’s fingers, this girl I was dating got impaled at the prison breakout of 07. I almost got killed by a sphinx in Egypt. It was metal as fuck! I don’t suppose you have any crazy stories to tell. Oh, I’m Zeke by the way. Maybe you’ve heard of me.” The only thing worse than a zealot had to be an elitist. 

Candice made an effort to keep the peace and get him out of their bubble. “Nope! But that’s wild! Somehow we’ve come out of three shows unscathed.”

“May the dark powers that be have mercy on the souls lost.” Venus added.

“But hey dude, enjoy the show. And meeting the band if it’s your first time!” Candi continued raising her glass in a toasting gesture and taking a long drink in hopes he’d take the hint and leave them be.

The man then sat on the barstool adjacent to their standing space. “Oh, it’s hardly the first time. One time, one of their guard dudes was carrying Toki out of a bar – totally wasted, the fuckin maniac- and I was in line to get in and Toki gave me a fist bump slung over the guy’s shoulder. I banged a chick right after Skwisgaar. Bareback! Murderface and Pickles and me bro’ed around once and I got the nickname ‘Shithead.’ And Nathan Explosion stepped on my foot and said ‘excuse me.’ Can you believe that shit? He didn’t even have to and he still did. He’s a real chill dude.”

Nona chuckled a little. “Eh. Nate’s a bit grouchy if ya ask me.” She was quickly elbowed in the side but it was too late. They were forced to engage.

“And what do you know about it, little miss three shows strong?” 

Nona didn’t have many regrets in life, but this interaction was quickly making its way onto the list. She downed her shot and decided to go for it. What was there to lose? “I mean, he’s not mean, but he’s bad at… Hm how do I explain it, V? You’re the wordsmith.”

“He’s just not a morning person. Nothin’ you haven’t dealt with before.” Venus shrugged.

Candi snorted. “You’ve made a habit of the type, to be honest!”

“Not a morning per- OH! YOU THREE ARE GROUPIES! That explains it!” Zeke overstated his proclamation. “You know, if you’re just here to fuck the band, you could’ve just said so! No need to play shy! Honestly, if you’ll do me a solid, I can make sure they pick you-”

Before he could speak another word, Candi had a tight grip around his throat. “If you don’t take your greasy ass to the other end of this bar or further the second I let you go, I’m going to step on much more than your foot and I will **not** apologize, are we clear?” The man struggled to break loose but the immense pressure on the sides of his windpipe made it far too painful a task. He merely gave a small nod and was freed.

“You crazy fucking gorilla bitch!” The raspy voice came forth as he backed away. “I’m getting security and I’ll make sure you never get your dirty gold-digging claws into Dethklok! You’re not even that cute! If it’s the last thing I do, you’re goi-”

A large laser projection appeared in the center of the room, chopping the annoying misogynist to pieces. Apparently in his rage, Zeke hadn’t noticed the multiple postings to stand clear of that area. There were a few horrified gasps, and muffled snickers from those who’d witnessed his embarrassing diatribe. Not like it mattered. Being alert was the number one rule of any Dethklok event. These things happened.

A fan-favorite voice chimed in and just like that, all sympathy dissipated. “Hey everybody! It’s me Faaaaacebooooones!!” 

“Fuck yeah, Facebones!!” Nona screeched, along with several others. 

“Welcome metal-loving pals! Happy way-closer-to-2013 from Mordland! Sucks to be stuck in the past, doesn’t it fuckos?! But hey, even though you’re losing the race to next year, it’s still the time you’ve all been waiting for! Time to meet the biggest metal band in the wooooorld!” The VIPs roared with applause. “But before we bring them out, I need to go over a few short recommendations and rules!”

In all fairness, short was a relative term. “Any and all attempts to touch band members will result in immediate termination of your tickets and possibly your life! No recording! If you are caught with Dethklok anywhere in your camera view outside of the sole allotted photograph, you will be escorted off the premises with no refund. Boo hooooo!” They listened as the floating skull rattled off a seemingly endless list of increasingly nonsensical regulations. 

“Please do not look Murderface directly in the eyes for more than 5 seconds if you are a man. It’s grounds for castration!! No kazoos! Don’t offer the band drugs! They have plenty, and they’re definitely better than yours! No running! Skwisgaar must be the tallest person in the room at any given time!! Voicemail recordings are up to Dethklok’s discretion, and they’re probably gonna say no so don’t waste your breath, numbnuts! And lastly, all groupies must report to the screening tent and receive a badge of cleanliness before any hanky-panky is permitted.” People in the room exchanged a few awkward nods of agreement like businessmen about to close on a negotiation. “So, let’s keep all that in mind going forward and give it up… FOR DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETHKLOOOOOOOOOOOK!!!!”

The lights flashed from purple to red, fog covering the floors as a curtain opened to reveal 5 illustrious and brutal thrones, each customized to suit the men’s individual aesthetics. The band walked out, looking bored as ever- minus Toki who gave out a few waves- and took their seats. Venus hurriedly downed two more shots to catch up to her friends who were looking to secure a place in line whenever one should form. The klokateers tased at least twelve who thought it wise to attempt to bum rush the table, much to the band’s amusement.

Once the calamitous scene died down and the intro music quieted, Nathan leaned forward to his mic. “Uhh, what’s up, Providence?” Charles leaned down and whispered to correct him. “Oh, Brooklyn. Yeah, we had a few drinks cuz uhh, we forgot we were doing this show. What the fuck is wrong with you people? It’s fucking New Year’s Eve Day. Go home and get plastered!”

“Brookslyns? You saids this place was namesed somethinkgs brutals!” Skwisgaar narrowed his eyes at his manager.

“It’s Barren Island, Skwisgaar. Barren Island, Brooklyn, New York.” Charles informed him. 

“I feels a littles betrayedsed.”

“Scheemsch like a cop out to me.” Murderface huffed as he chugged the rest of his mug of beer.

Pickles shrugged. “I mean if ya think about it, Brooklyn in itself is kiiiinda brutal. They got crime out the ass anyway.”

“Actually, I do believe the murder rate is at an all time low currently.” The bespectacled man noted.

The rhythm guitarist snorted. “Ha! Lames!” 

“Yeah why wouldja say dat? I was tryin ta look at the bright side! Dis robotic crap yer always pullin really ruins everything, ya know dat?”

“Heh. Maybes since he ams hard pressed to tells us abouts numbers, he ams morphingks into a calcskulators.” Skwisgaar snickered.

“Charles fuckin Offden-sine.” Pickles slapped his knee.

“What ams that mean, Pickle?” Toki’s brow raised in confusion.

“Member in algebra or whatever? Sines, cosines?”

“And tangerinesch! It’s baschic math, Toki, you moron!”

Skwisgaar winced. “I feels likes… maybes it was nots quite dat words you saids, William.”

“Well, who the fuck do I look like? Schteven Schpielberg?!”

“Pretty sure that asshole was a president, not a math-er…guy.” Nathan scratched his head. “Am I right on this?”

“Ahh, wasn’ts dats Stephens Hawkings?” the lead guitarist challenged.

“No, that’sch the phone guy!”

“Steve Harveys?” Toki inquired. “That names am ringings a bell.”

Pickles slammed his phone on the table in a moment of discovery. “Tangents! Guys, I looked it up! It was tangents!”

“Much like what you guys are on right now. Would you please address the crowd, at the very least?” Charles huffed. 

Nathan agreed jadedly. “Ok yeah whatever.” He leaned toward the mic again. “Just line up and we’ll sign your shit, I guess.”

The fans laughed off the display of apathy. Even after ruining the world’s economy, and charging overblown fees for frequent occurrences such as this, those who loved them were entirely dedicated to the idea that these men could do no wrong.

After about twenty minutes, Nona was sliding a CD copy of the boys’ first album across the table to Skwisgaar. 

“Oh, it ams been a whiles since we seens ones of dese.” He released a small laugh through his nose. “Checks dat outs, Moidaface.” The blond leaned over to Murderface after he signed.

William cringed as he uncapped his pen. “Great now I feel like a fucking grandpa. Thanksch.”

“Time makes fools of us all, right?” Nona giggled. “I just- this one has a special place in my heart or some sappy shit like that.” 

Nathan polished off another beer as the case was slid over to him. “Fuck, that… that is old. I can’t even remember the last time I saw one of these.” He glanced up, noticing the distinctly graphic cannibal unicorn tattoo on her right arm. “Wait a minute, you’re…”

She smiled and waved as Skwisgaar had a similar realization with Candice. 

“THOSE girls!” They recalled in unison.

Toki jumped out of his seat, running over to offer Nona a hug. “You really dids come! I wanted to sees you alls again!” 

“Of course! I’m glad you weren’t just drunk texting random numbers!” The lavender-haired woman hugged him back with genuine astonishment. She hadn’t heard from him in a while and spent so much time talking herself down to avoid any disappointment, that this encounter was right back in surreal territory. From the looks on Venus and Candi’s faces, the trio were all on the same page.

Skwisgaar placed a kiss on the back of Candi’s hand. “Longs time no sees.”

“Too long, handsome! I trust you’ve been putting that list I gave you to good use?” She smirked.

“Listens, I have, uh, beens around da blocks as dey says. I have NEVERS mets womens like Sophias and Margrets befores.” Vivid blue eyes went wide at the memory as he let out a ‘whew’ sound. “Calls me sentimenskals, but I owes you one!” 

She cackled. “Honey, after our little rendezvous, I’m still the one in debt, okay?”

Venus waved reservedly at William, still unable to gauge his standoffish demeanor. He rolled his eyes and returned a muttered ‘hey’ amongst some other unintelligible grumpy sounds. 

“Ah come ahn, Murderface. A chick’s finally nice to ya and this is how ya repay ‘em?” Pickles chortled, appearing to William’s left. “Sup, girlie?” 

“Sup, shorty?” The platforms she’d chosen today only made her about an inch taller than the drummer, but it was amusing nonetheless.

He scoffed in indignation. “How many more drinks ya gotta get in before yer nice ta me again?” 

“Hmm… How about, sign this and I’ll consider it.” She smirked, pulling out a separate item from her wallet. A surprisingly well-preserved ticket from an SNB show at the Whisky in ‘86.

“Dood, holy shit!! If I didn’t already feel like a fossil, I sure fuckin do now! How is this thing still kickin?!” Pickles examined the card stock-esque material. 

Charles gave them a few minutes before breaking up the affair. “Ahh, Guys this is taking a bit longer than it should. We won’t be able to get to everyo-”

“Look at this shit. Doesn’t want us to cause fan deaths, doesn’t want us to enjoy fan company. What IS good enough for you?” Nathan rolled his eyes.

Offdensen leaned in with a lowered voice. “I’d think it wise to move things along for the ah, sake of peace.” He directed the band’s attention to increasingly annoyed faces in the queue. “I’m certain these nice young ladies would be happy to catch up with you fellas later.” The stern glance once again assured them that this was hardly a suggestion.

Candice took the lead. “Yeah, we’d **_never_** want to intrude on another fan’s time. Let’s get out of the way, girls.”

“Aww that sucks! I hates these things!” Toki pouted. “I’ll sees ya later, Nonas. We gots a big surprise plannsed!”

“It amns’t much of a surprise if you tells everyones.” Skwisgaar sighed.

Charles nodded. “He’s right, Toki.” Leaning in further he supplied a vague hint. “Just check your phone… vigilantly.”

“Oooookay.” Nona exchanged puzzled glances with her friends.

Pickles rolled his eyes, signing the primordial strip of paper and attempting to hand it back over to Venus. “Here. Take good care of it”

She found herself already being hurried off the platform. “Wait, I gotta- ugh, you giant motherfucker- Ya know what, just hold onto it. I’m trusting you!” There wasn’t much to be done going up against a swam of security and aggravated metalheads twice her size. “BACK POCKET THAT SHIT, PLEASE!” The final words curved through the crowd to reach him. She prayed the drunkenness and cries of more pushy, unhinged fans being zapped didn’t drown her out.

All they could do now is take their places in the audience. 

The patrons were as plentiful as one would expect. Given the lowered prices, one could even argue this was the biggest crowd possible for the last-minute venue. The three women shoved their way up to the stage, trying to find that sweet spot they were so accustomed to. Roughly six stadium rows back and ever so slightly left was the objective, they’d determined. 

Venus ruminated on how against all odds, it must be unpleasant to live these men’s lives. For every Zeke that got slaughtered, there had to be one-hundred more minimum. Although, the more she pictured it, the worse it felt to take pot shots at their emotions. Knowing all too well the full extent of batshit Dethklok enthusiast behavior was concerning at best. The burning of the Louvre, the masses who shelled out thousands to hear a single note, the sheer number of people who’d bragged about having a supposed loved one perish at the hands of stage effects… It was weird. Why weren’t people seeing how weird they were?! 

Or perhaps the life and times of rock stars of their magnitude would be beyond presumptuous to assume. For all there was to be said about celebrity life styles, there was no one who could grasp what it was like to fill those boots, or the lone pair of sneakers. They were too big. So big it boggled her mind. These men were too often seen publicly exhibiting their own inexperience, their lack of normal adult functionality. With some of what they’d been through, it’s amazing they were alive. And the general public didn’t know the half of it. Yet a single note from them left many a useless heap, overcome with emotion; a kind of power that was incredibly threatening and healing all at once. Perhaps fan madness came from that revelation.

Still, just like the first time; watching them take the stage with their otherworldly presence modified Venus’ entire outlook. There was a part of her that acknowledged the fairness of the ‘never meet your heroes’ mantra. But she was so glad she did. They were just fun and silly guys doing what they loved. Or what they were good at. Either way, for every person they treated poorly in her presence, so many would gladly lay down their lives for these five without them even noticing, let alone asking. And with the intro to ‘Rejoin’ she was struck with awe and understanding once more. They weren’t heroes. They weren’t villains. Their existence was on a separate plane. There was a word for that, surely.

“OH MY **GOD!** NATHAN, MARRY ME!” A voice behind the girls screamed. 

“HELLO, NEW YORK!” Explosion called out to the swarm. 

Venus dropped her dramatic analysis, grinning at the sheer joy around her. It wasn’t time to write their biography. It was time to bask in the too long-unfelt ambiance of a goddamn Dethklok show. “Tonight will be the most brutal night of your meaningless lives. We will black out the sun and rain down death on this forsaken island.” The theatrics, the pageantry, the decadence; it was unlike anything else on this god-forsaken rock. The monitors were plentiful and powerful enough to almost asphyxiate unsuspecting fans who stood front and center; skilled arpeggios and double kicks nothing short of ‘face-melting’ as a descriptor spewing forth.

Almost no time had passed before a substantial mosh pit had broken out in front of them. They took on the task of shoving the stumbling troop of metalheads back into their proper place as their surroundings became increasingly intense. At certain points, Nona would disappear into the shadow-like bunch, being elevated onto a series of raised hands or trying her luck at slamming into physiques thrice her size. Venus also had select tunes that riled her up just enough to shake off the fear of chipping a tooth or catching a bow to the nose. Candi maintained her guardian post, keeping an eagle eye on her more unrestrained friends. It was an effective system. And a fun one!

So fun, that amidst the pandemonium, it was impossible to tell the full extent of the elaborate set-up. But a more focused individual may have felt the bubble-like arena shifting and floating off into the Atlantic.


End file.
